What Everybody Knows
by CarmenMauri
Summary: What do all of the glee kids know about Puck and Quinn's relationship?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Glee. I merely used Ryan Murphy's amazing characters to get me out of my writer's block.

* * *

"Who wants to go in the hot tub with us?" Santana's voice rang from the top of the stairs.

Almost immediately, teenage boys ran towards the patio, ripping their jackets and shirts off their bodies, leaving their beers behind. You could practically smell the desperation in the air; these boys were willing to do anything (even risk their health) to be in a hot tub with Santana and Brittany that November night.

Everybody knew that nothing was hotter than Santana Lopez and Brittany Pierce in a hot tub. Kissing. Touching.

Just the thought of it was enough to make them jizz in their pants.

Santana smirked at the reaction she got from the boys. Even if she wasn't head Cheerio any more, she still had it. She nodded at her blonde best friend and lifted her pinky. Brittany beamed back at her and locked her own finger with hers. They walked purposefully down the stairs, their long legs accentuated by their teeny, weeny bikini bottoms, Santana's boobs practically falling out of her top. She looked around the room, surveying the lame-ass boys that were left.

She rolled her eyes when she saw Finn and Rachel cuddling on the couch, oblivious to the rest of the partygoers. Finn swept Rachel's hair off her neck and leaned towards her, whispering into his girlfriend's ear. Santana watched as Rachel laughed, leaning her tiny body into Finn. _Pathetic and predictable_, she thought, shaking her head.

She continued scanning the room, not surprised to find Kurt and Mercedes standing by the snack table, their eyes darting around the house as though they feared that one of the cooler kids would jump them at any second. Santana knew that they had nothing to worry about; they were guests at her party and if either Azimio or Karofsky tried anything, she had her older brother, Officer Lopez, on speed dial. (She knew Jose wouldn't reprimand her for throwing a party... hell, he encouraged it! His baby sister could do no wrong in his eyes.) Still, neither Kurt nor Mercedes had to know that. Their fear was hilarious and Santana loved to laugh.

Her eyes landed on Quinn and she rolled her eyes again. The ice princess sat primly on one of the chairs beside to the snack table, worrying her bottom lip. The least "Momma Quinn" could do was pretend she was having fucking fun. Ugh. But _no_. Santana hadn't expected her to show, but when Sam (Mr Freaking Charming) approached Quinn with two cups in hand, Santana understood why she was there: Sam had probably coaxed Quinn into attending tonight's party. Quinn awarded Sam with a small smile and the boy's lips spread into a cheesy grin. Santana noticed his eyes timidly flit over to Kurt, who immediately looked down. Santana shrugged. Who cared if glee's Queen had a thing for Sam? Boy was _not_ going to get anywhere with him.

Kay, so most of the lame glee club was at her party, but where the hell was Puckerman? She scowled. Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Brittany noticed her frown and looked at her worriedly.

"What's wrong?" she said in that breathy voice of hers. "Are you mad because Tina and Mike are hooking up in the upstairs washroom?"

"They're not hooking up," Santana corrected. "Mike has a nose bleed because Artie threw a football at him. Speaking of Artie, where is he?"

Brittany lifted a finger and pointed to the kitchen where Artie was doing a keg stand.

"Great. Just fucking great!" Santana fumed. "If he gets plastered, he can't stay the night! My parents are coming home tomorrow morning." She unlocked her pinky from Brittany's and folded her thin arms. Where was Puckerman?

* * *

Puck scoped out the girls at the party; taking regular sips from his beer in between every ogle. He heard Santana and Brittany's mating call and rolled his eyes. Some things, like the Cheerios' sluttiness, never changed. He shook his head in derision as a slew of shirtless idiots ran out to the patio, scattering their clothes all over the Lopez's house.

He sat on the kitchen countertop, smirking as Artie did his first ever keg-stand. Boy was coming into his own, Puck mused.

Not only had Artie deftly thrown a pig-skin at Mike, earning him a clap on the back from Puck, but he was now chatting up a very hot Cheerio, in between chugging his body weight in beer. His boy had done good. Granted, Puck was no longer interested in any of the girls at the party. From the moment he'd seen Quinn walk through the door with Sam (Puck resisted the urge to gag), he'd holed himself up in the kitchen; sitting as close to the wall and away from sight as his muscular frame would allow. He didn't need to be reminded that Quinn had found Finn version 2.0. He also didn't need Hopez trying to get in his pants.

"Right, Puck?" Artie asked, effectively pulling Puck out of his thoughts.

"What's that?"

"You'll hook up with her friend, right?" Artie asked straightforwardly. He cocked his head towards the girl in the Cheerios uniform standing in the opposite corner, a sexy smirk on her face. Puck's eyes roamed over the girl's tight body and realized he'd never seen her before. _Must be a freshman_, he figured.

He glanced back at Artie and immediately understood; he was Artie's wingman and was, therefore, expected to fulfill his wingman duties.

Sam came into the kitchen just then, raising his hands defensively at the sight of Puck. Puck gave him a curt nod in response and Sam entered the kitchen. At least the kid knew who was in charge, Puck smirked. Sam saw Artie and the two girls, nodded once at them and grabbed two cups. He pursed his oversized lips, shoving a hand in his jeans back-pocket, and approached the keg timidly.

"You guys havin' fun?" he asked, awkwardly shifting his weight.

"Sam, I gotta ask you, man," Artie slurred, waving Sam over.

Sam crouched down to Artie's level, a serious look on his pleasant face.

"Is Tina with Mike?"

Puck rolled his eyes. Bringing his near-empty cup to his lips, he chugged. When was Artie going to understand that Tina didn't want him? _Just like Quinn doesn't want me_, he though bitterly.

"Uh... I dunno." Sam returned. His eyes locked with Puck's and he immediately looked down. He didn't like the accusations he found swimming in Puck's eyes.

Puck crushed the cup in his fist and jumped off the counter. He sauntered over to the keg, grabbing another cup from the counter-top.

"Waste, much?"

Puck looked up and met the eyes of the girl in the corner. She flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder and pouted sexily. For a freshman, Puck was impressed.

He shrugged and filled his new cup, blocking Sam from the beer.

"I don't care about much," he said turning to look back at his intended hook-up. "Least of all the environment." He winked and made his way back to his corner on the counter, sliding his body back up. He watched Sam as he blew out a shaky breath and filled a cup. When he put the other cup beneath the spout, reaching for the tab, Puck spoke up.

"Don't," he said. "Quinn doesn't like beer."

Sam looked up and nodded. "Well, what does she like?"

"Fruity drinks." Puck shrugged.

"Like?"

"Wine coolers, Brittany's spiked punch, you know. Shit like that. Just... don't get her a beer." He took a drink from his cup. "Beer gives her bad breath or something."

Sam smiled, nodding his appreciation. He exited the kitchen and Puck leaned forward to watch Sam make his way to the drinks table, pouring Quinn a glass of Diet Coke. _Good choice, _Puck thought. His eyes followed Sam, as he walked over to Quinn, his arm extended and offering her a cup. He leaned back, hiding from sight again, looking away when he saw the smile on Quinn's face.

He downed the rest of his drink and jumped off the counter. It was time to move the fuck on.

* * *

"Mike, I don't think it's going to stop bleeding." Tina said, blotting her boyfriend's nose with a kleenex.

"Get me a tampon."

"Wha-wha-what?" Tina asked, clearly surprised at his request.

"Come on, Tina." He pled. "I just wanna go downstairs and drink! I've heard that tampons help absorb the blood and... well. I'm desperate. I haven't been to a party in _months _and... I just wanna dance!"

"Mike, drinking is probably the reason why your nose won't stop bleeding." Tina explained. When she saw his confused expression, she rolled her eyes. "Alcohol thins blood, so it won't coagulate... you know? Clot?"

"Oh." He leaned against the counter, defeated. "So... no more jelly shots?"

Tina smiled, shaking her head. He wasn't exactly the most articulate boyfriend, but he was a cutie. If only he hadn't groped her on Santana's makeshift dancefloor. When Artie saw that, there was nothing anyone could do to stop him from spiralling that football at Mike. Though Tina was convinced that Puck had been the one to give Artie that ball. He had seemed awfully proud of himself when Mike had clutched his nose.

She shook her head angrily. Artie had no right to do what he did... still, she couldn't help but feel a little... _relieved_ that he still liked her.

She bit her lip and got a fresh kleenex for Mike's nose. Pressing it against his nose, she took his hand and placed it over the kleenex.

"Press the bridge of your nose like this," she instructed, taking Mike's index and forefinger between her fingers and demonstrating. She smiled when he did as he was told.

"Listen, I'm going to call your mom," she said as she clutched the doorknob. "I don't think we should stay here much longer."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Mike answered. He reached for her, grabbing her hand. "Thanks," he smiled.

Tina withdrew her hand from his, a bit unnerved all of a sudden. Forcing a smile, she nodded and exited the Lopez's bathroom.

* * *

"How 'bout you and I head upstairs?" Puck said, stroking the Cheerio's arm with a finger.

The girl giggled and took his hand in hers. "I'll lead the way," she said, raising an eyebrow.

Puck clapped Artie's back and followed the ridiculously hot Cheerio. It was time to forget all about jail, Quinn, Be—and everything that happened last year. Tonight was going to be life-changing.

"Be safe!" He heard Artie call out from the kitchen.

They walked past the nauseatingly cute Finn and Rachel and made their way upstairs. They were just passing in front of the bathroom, when Puck literally walked into Tina.

"Sorry," she mumbled, without looking. When her eyes locked on his, she scoffed. "I was wondering when you'd come upstairs for a random hookup," she said icily.

She walked off shaking her head.

"What's her problem?" the Cheerio asked.

"Uh... beats the hell out of me." He laughed. Licking his lips, he grabbed the girl's arms in his hands and pulled them over her body. "Now let's find that room, shall we?"

* * *

Mercedes had just gotten the courage to pour herself a cup of Brittany's special punch, when Tina approached the snack table. She cast a meaningful look at Quinn and motioned for Mercedes and Kurt to follow her.

"What up, Tee?" Mercedes asked when they were out of Quinn's earshot. She glanced back at Quinn and Sam and noticed that Quinn was staring at their group intently. She gave Quinn a small wave and reassuring smile. She pointed at Tina and shrugged. Quinn nodded back, but arched her eyebrow suspiciously.

"Okay, you know how you told me last week that when Quinn was living with you, all she talked about was Puck and how much she wished he would grow up and that one time we had a sleepover, Quinn confided in us that the thing she hated most about Puck was his inability to keep it in his pants?" Tina asked in one breath.

Mercedes and Kurt looked at one another and nodded slowly.

"Well," Tina looked at her two friends uneasily. "He's hooking up with someone upstairs."

"Who with?" Kurt exclaimed.

"Shh," Tina looked around Mercedes and noticed that Quinn was still looking at them suspiciously. "I don't want Quinn to hear."

Mercedes looked behind her again and saw that Sam had diverted Quinn's attention. Relieved, she turned back to her two friends. "Who's he with?" Mercedes pressed.

Tina shook her head sadly. "Some... Cheerio." She pursed her lips to the side and frowned. "I don't know why he does it. I mean, last week he was all about proving to all of us that his time in juvie had changed him. He took Artie under his wing," she rolled her eyes at that. "And, sure, I think he may have coaxed him into throwing the ball at Mike, but really... He's been good." She shrugged. "I've heard he's been avoiding Santana, which is driving _her_ crazy, but it shows that he's ready to stop banging anything with boobs. At least, that's what Brit told Kurt, right?"

Kurt nodded.

"Right."

"Well, as long as Quinn doesn't find out, this should be a relatively stress-free night," Mercedes said.

"Tell me what?"

The three of them turned to look at Quinn. She stood with her hands on her hips, a delicate eyebrow arched.

"Quinn!" Kurt gasped.

"I-I-we-uh..." Tina stammered.

Mercedes sighed heavily and met her friend's eyes.

"Listen, Quinn, we were worried you'd find out that... well, Puck's upstairs with some Cheerio." She said uneasily. It pained her to deliver this news to her friend. A friend she had grown to love like a sister. Sure, Mercedes and Quinn were as different as night and day, glee club and football, black and white... but they had bonded over their shared love of soul music (Quinn was a huge fan of the Supremes, much to the Jones family's amusement), their mutual understanding that they were more alike than they could ever understand and their compassionate nature. Mercedes was surprised to find that underneath that hostile glare, Quinn was an empathetic soul who was willing to provide comfort. As glee club's brassy diva realized, she and Quinn's differences were nothing compared to their similarities.

Mercedes watched as Quinn's arched eyebrow slowly fell.

"Oh."

Quinn nodded slowly, absorbing the information. She blinked once and finally smiled.

"He's finally back then, isn't he?" She bit her lip and walked back to sit with Sam. Sam looked up at them and scratched his head in confusion. He draped an arm over Quinn's shoulder, but she brushed him off, giving him a small smile.

"It's better that she knows now, ladies." Kurt said rationally as he watched Quinn and Sam.

"True, but I just wish she could turn her heart off, you know?" Mercedes said, her voice heavy with sympathy. "I know that girl is _not_ over that mohawked perv. And poor Sam is none the wiser."

Kurt's eyeroll went unnoticed by his friends. _As _if_ Kurt Elizabeth Hummel has the right to fall in love with another straight boy_, he thought dramatically.

* * *

Puck's hand moved mechanically up the girl's shirt, stroking the underside of her left breast, while the other hand wove itself into her blonde locks. His eyes stayed closed, but he knew, by the moans escaping the girl's mouth, that she was getting into their heavy petting session. But... he wasn't. Lying beside the Cheerio on Santana's little brother's bed, he tried to jump-start Little Puck by remembering the last time he'd been in that room—Santana had a thing for doing it in every room in her house. They'd done it in her room, her parent's, her little brother's and even in both the bathrooms. Still, the memory of their sexy romps didn't excite him.

He started wishing that the girl (_What was her name again?_) would say something... anything... to elicit some response from his nether regions. His prayers were answered when her throaty voice broke the silence.

"I'd heard about you," the girl said in between wet kisses.

"Oh yeah?"

"Mmmhmm..." a sexy purr came from her throat. "The Cheerios do nothing but talk about the hot boys at McKinley."

Puck diverted his attention to her neck. Maybe it was her kissing.

"You're on..." she gasped when Puck flicked his tongue over her pulse point. "Most of their lists."

His hand moved of its own accord to cup her left breast and the girl arched into it. He was doing all of the right things and was getting the right responses, but no matter what the girl did, nothing woke Little Puck up. And Little Puck was _always_ up for sex. Hell, sex was part of the reason he'd even started his pool cleaning business. What the hell was wrong with him?

Prying his mouth off of her neck, Puck hoisted himself up, propping himself up on his hands. The girl looked affronted and shifted herself up, leaning against her elbows.

"Uh... yeah." He clicked his tongue and ran a shaky hand through his mohawk. "I can't do this."

"What do you mean 'you can't do this'?" The girl was practically shouting.

"Listen, you're hot," Puck reassured her, looking at her body like it was dessert. "But I can't do..." he wracked his mind, trying to come up with a better excuse than 'You're not turning me on, baby'—even Puck knew that wasn't nice. "I can't do... a... a freshman!" He nodded emphatically, trying to convince the girl and himself, that that was why Pucky-Puck couldn't and wouldn't have sex with this hot as hell freshman. He wanted to facepalm for all eternity, fearing that his junk might be broken. He shook his head quickly, trying to rid his mind of that scary as fuck thought.

Noticing his head shake, the girl's bottom lip began to tremble.

"It's because I'm fat, isn't it?" Her voice shook. _Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck._

"No!" Puck waved his hands in front of him, trying to assuage the girl's fears. "Trust me... you're hot."

"Then why the hell won't you do me? Listen, I've heard the stories. I've heard about the countless Cheerios you've slept with and I know that you have nothing against sleeping with underclassmen. So why the hell won't you do me?" The girl was hysterical. And not in the funny way.

Fearing that nothing would calm the chick down, Puck went for another approach.

"Listen, baby," he crooned, stroking her arm with his finger. "It's not you, it's me." He gave her his best panty-melting smile, but was shocked when the Cheerio laughed.

"Oh. My. GOD!" She choked out in between laughs. "Your junk isn't working, is it?" She covered her mouth with her hands, rolling over, snorting uncontrollably. "I can't believe it! The Sex Shark of McKinley can't get it up!"

Puck pulled himself off the bed and started pacing.

"No! That's not it!" He argued. How could it be when the sight of Quinn last week in glee had made him half-hard? He hadn't seen her in over two months, but just seeing her... her blonde hair under a sexy black bandana and wearing that bad-ass outfit, made him want to corner her in the janitor's closet like they'd done back in their freshman year? "I just don't think you're... old enough to experience sex with someone as experienced as me. I mean, have sex with _me_, and I'll ruin men for you. True story." He looked up at her, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips drawn into a frown.

The girl crawled over to him and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Listen, I don't care about your excuses, but aren't you a little young to have problems getting it up?" She looked pointedly at his crotch.

Crying out in exasperation, Puck left the room without another glance at the cheerleader.

* * *

Rachel walked out onto the porch and breathed in the cold crisp November air. It was her first party and it was their—Finn and Rachel's—first party together... _as a couple_. She smiled to herself, mentally patting herself on the back, happy that the night had been an overall success. Sure, Azimio had shoved Finn against the wall when Rachel had left to go the bathroom, but Santana had witnessed the affront and warned the football player to lay off. She had to remember to thank Santana... maybe she'd bake her some cookies to show her appreciation.

The door slammed shut and Noah Puckerman stumbled out of Santana's house, taking deep breaths and leaning against the porch's rail for support. Concerned, Rachel stepped forward.

"Noah?"

Puck startled, turning to face her. The moonlight hit his face and Rachel saw the dejected expression he wore. She involuntarily stepped closer to him, wanting to provide some comfort to ease his pain.

"Don't, Berry." Puck hissed. He backed off and shook his head. Leaning against the railing once more, she saw him clench his jaw.

She stepped back, giving him the space and privacy he desired. They stood there, both effectively ignoring one another, listening to the calmness in the winter air. Rachel wondered why Finn was taking so long. She felt as though she'd been waiting for him for hours. She was just about to step back inside, when Puck broke the silence.

"I didn't think she'd show."

Immediately, Rachel felt Puck's pain wash over her in waves. She recalled that day on the bleachers when he had guessed that her heart belonged to Finn and she confessed to having noticed his eyes on Quinn. She'd always known that Puck had cared for Quinn. From the moment he'd joined glee, Puck did nothing but stare at the pregnant cheerleader. She empathized with him, knowing that they had more in common than their shared faith.

Puck, like Rachel, was ambitious and dreamed of leaving Lima for bigger, better things.

Puck, like Rachel, was abrasive, often speaking without thinking.

Puck's confidence, much like Rachel's, depended on his happiness. And Puck's confidence... it depended on Quinn.

She stepped forward once more, placing a timid hand on his shoulder, quietly urging him to keep talking. He needed to rid himself of the poison coursing through his veins.

"After she was born, we were okay," his voice was gruff, but Rachel detected the sincerity in his tone. "Hell, she got her mom to hire me a few times to clean out their pool. We hung out. We talked. We even went to Shelby's house. You know...? To see what her home-life was like? To say our goodbyes." His words hung in the air.

"She didn't want... anything to do with me. She told me we needed to get over her," he scoffed. "She... I don't know. And now..." he breathed in deep. "Now she's here with that... that fucking tool?" He shook his head angrily and moved to sit on the porch stairs. He let his head hit the side of the house, stretching his legs out.

Rachel bit her lip, fidgeting with her hands.

"Noah, maybe this is what she needs." Rachel's voice was soft. "Maybe this is for the best." She swallowed hard, knowing that her words did nothing to give him comfort. But she knew what she was saying was true. And most times, the truth hurts.

She shifted her weight and startled when the door opened and Finn stepped out. He grinned when he saw her, but noticing her troubled expression, he followed her eyes to Puck.

He leaned down, putting a hand on Puck's shoulder.

"You need a ride, man? I know you were hitting the keg pretty hard..."

Puck nodded, walking towards Finn's car. Finn stretched out his hand towards Rachel and Rachel wrapped both of her hands around his. She looked up at him worriedly and he gave her a half-smile. Kissing the top of her head, he whispered "He'll be okay," into her hair, smiling when he felt her nod.

* * *

Puck sat in Finn's backseat, leaning his head against the cold glass. The _Rent_ soundtrack filled the small car and he wished so hard he hadn't been desperate for a ride. Wished he hadn't been so desperate to hide his face. He hadn't felt this worthless since JewFro and McKinley's nerds threw him in the trash. Now it was worse than that. At least then he could beat those losers to a pulp if they stepped out of line. At least then he had a plan. Now? A _Cheerio_ knew his secret. A Cheerio who could tell the rest of the school about his little problem and ultimately cost him his "stud" status. He punched the door angrily.

"Hey!" Finn called from the front, narrowing his eyes in the rearview mirror. "Cut it out, man!"

Rachel grabbed Finn's hand and squeezed. She turned in her seat to look at Puck and smiled.

"Do you... wanna talk about it?" Her voice was soft, but she couldn't bring her eyes to meet Puck's.

Puck continued to stare out the window, ignoring Rachel.

"Listen, Puck... Why don't you talk to her? She left the party early. I'm sure you could call her and I dunno... talk...?"

Again she was met with silence. Breathing out, she turned in her seat again and faced the front. When her back was turned, Puck gave her the finger, ultimately making him feel better.

Finn reached an intersection; he could head right onto McAllister Avenue or veer left onto Dudley Road. Puck sat up, staring from left to right; right to left.

"Hey, uh," he put his hand on the door handle. "Thanks for the ride, Hudson. I have someone to talk to." He patted Rachel's shoulder, smiling softly when she turned to look at him. She was right, he should talk to Quinn; it sucked to admit it.

Ducking out of the car, Puck made his way up Dudley Road.

* * *

They were outside the Fabray's house. Sitting in the dark. Ordinarily, this was the part of the date when the gentleman gets his kiss. But a kiss was the furthest thing from Quinn's mind.

Apparently, it was the furthest thing from Sam's mind, too.

"You know I always wondered why Clark Kent never told more people his secret. Like, I mean, I get he was Superman, but wouldn't it be good for him if more people knew what he was capable of?"

She knew nothing about comics, science-fiction or pop culture and Sam knew little about soul music, cheerleading and the women's lib. They literally had nothing in common and, quite frankly, Quinn liked it that way. Somehow it was comforting to know that they never had anything to say to one another.

She fiddled with her hands in her lap. It was a nervous habit of hers—playing with her hands—and she found she did it a lot when she was with Sam.

He reached over the console and took one of her hands in his. Quinn immediately wanted to recoil, but she knew that would be rude. Sam had been nothing but lovely all evening; the perfect gentleman. Isn't that what she wanted? But the more she thought about how _perfect_ Sam was, the more she remembered Finn and his awkward sweetness, his timid manner and his inability to make her go weak in the knees. Finn had been the perfect gentleman, but he was never what she needed. Never what she wanted.

"Hey," Sam's voice interrupted her dizzying thoughts. She looked up, reluctantly meeting his eyes. "What's wrong?"

She swallowed hard. Afraid that if she didn't choose her words wisely Sam would think she was looking for date number four. Or worse, Sam would know that she wasn't interested. Quinn was stuck between a rock and a hard place: not wanting Sam, but not wanting to let go of him, either. Instead, she opted to smile sweetly at the boy next to her.

"Nothing," she said softly. She rolled her head to the side and giggled in that cute way of hers. "I'm just tired. I was never one for partying."

Sam smiled at that. It seems her answer satisfied him. She pulled on her seatbelt and gathered her things. Almost immediately, Sam opened his door and walked over to her side. He pulled the door open—he played the part of the perfect gentleman flawlessly—and helped Quinn to her feet.

He walked her to her door—he knew the role better than most boys—and waited patiently for Quinn to bid him goodnight.

Quinn took her house key out, fiddling with it nervously. She didn't want him to kiss her, but she knew that he was expecting one.

Sam reached to pull a strand of her blond hair off her face and Quinn slowly met his gaze. He raised his eyebrows and a faint smile grew on his lips. Slowly, carefully, his face inched closer and Quinn was unable to stop him. She watched as he closed his eyes... She swallowed once. Twice. Trying to rid the taste of betrayal from her mouth.

She could feel his warm breath on her mouth and—

"What the hell are you doing?" a familiar voice boomed.

Before she even knew what was happening, Quinn was startled to find Sam on the floor, the sounds of flesh hitting flesh, of bone hitting concrete, frightening her. She realized what was happening: Puck was attacking Sam!

Waking from her daze, she ran over to Puck's shaking form and pulled him off of Sam, yelling at him to stop hurting him. Sam stayed on the floor, his shallow breathing scaring Quinn. She crouched beside his shaking form and ran her hand on his face. Already, she could see the beginnings of a bruise on his left eye and her stomach turned. She caused this.

_No, Puck did. _

She turned to look at Puck, her eyes narrowed. She rose to her full height and walked towards Puck purposefully; her palm facing up, ready to strike him. She gave him a cold hard look and shook her blonde head.

"You have no right." She was embarrassed when her voice shook, causing Puck to involuntarily step forward. She waved him off, shaking her head again. She walked back to Sam and helped him to his feet, letting him lean into her body. They walked to her house, taking their time as they climbed the three steps to her porch. Puck used her key to open the door and the three of them stepped in. He rushed to the kitchen, while Quinn helped Sam ease his way into one of the couches. Puck entered the living room with an ice pack in hand and Quinn yanked it from his eager hands. She didn't even glance at him, but leaned down to Sam again, pressing the ice pack against Sam's cheek tenderly.

Puck looked away, not wanting to see Quinn handle Sam with such care.

He walked to Quinn's kitchen, pulling out a stool and sinking into it. He knew that whatever happened next would define _this. _This game of cat and mouse. This game of lying, admitting and hiding. This avoidance.

He was ready to be a man and admit defeat if that's what Quinn wanted. Because he wanted her to be happy—no matter what.

* * *

_**A/N:**_ I wrote this because it was an idea that kept nagging at me. I literally couldn't stop thinking about Puck and Quinn and Sam and what the club thought of whatever it is they have. It was written in a few hours, so please excuse the typos, the inconsistencies, etc, since this is one of the rare times that I'm actually _not _going to worry too much about editing (says the editor :P). This was merely written for my amusement, but I really hope that you all enjoy it!

Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Glee. I merely used Ryan Murphy's amazing characters to get me out of my writer's block. All typos, errors and overall crappiness belong to me.

* * *

"What's going on down there?" Judy Fabray called down from the top of the staircase. She clutched a hand to her chest, her pink satin bathrobe clinging to her figure.

She raced down the steps, worry instantly settling in the pit of her stomach. When she'd first heard the yelling, she'd decided that Quinn was probably watching a movie with Sam downstairs and promptly rolled over, convinced that it was nothing serious. But as soon as she heard the scuffling of footsteps on her hardwood floors, she'd feared the worst. Fights and-and-and… tomfoolery did not happen on Dudley Road. They just didn't!

So, when she saw her youngest daughter, Sam Evans—her daughter's polite, precious, pretty and _perfect_ boyfriend—and Noah Puckerman walking into the living room, things clicked into place.

She hadn't seen Noah Puckerman since summertime. She'd heard about his trouble with the law through the Lima grapevine, but had never pressed Quinn for details. Quinn never said as much, but Noah was special to her. There was something in the way that she'd look at him, her gaze tracing over his masculine features like a sweet caress that convinced Judy that Quinn was more than a little infatuated with him. She refused to pinpoint the precise nature of Quinn's feelings for fear of being averse to her findings, but she knew. Oh, she knew that the feelings were there.

"Quinnie," she said from the doorway, moments after Puck sulked off. Quinn, who was still hunched over Sam's unconscious body, startled and stood up quickly. When she finally met her mother's eyes again, she was defiant.

"Mom, I'm sorry we woke you," she said mechanically. She bent over Sam's figure again and they heard him groan.

"What happened?" Sam's voice was gruff and groggy.

Quinn huffed in annoyance and Judy clicked her tongue at her, disapproving. Giving her daughter a sharp glare, the older woman walked towards the blond teens and took the ice pack from Quinn's delicate fingers.

"Go." Judy commanded, lifting a single finger and pointing it in the direction of the kitchen.

Quinn startled and, biting down on her lip, shook her head.

"Go." Judy repeated.

"Did that Puckerman kid really slug me?"

Both women look down at Sam as he gingerly touched his eye.

"He did more than just slug you," Quinn replied, crouching down again. Her expression was soft and Judy felt confident that Sam was _the one_. All of her feelings of unease were quickly erased.

"He's insane," Sam muttered and something inside Quinn snapped.

"He is _not_ insane!" She shrilled. And all of Judy's pre-existing doubts returned and she felt her stomach turn over.

"Quinnie," she warned. She knows her daughter and it was clear to her that Sam's words had struck a nerve.

"Well he's not," Quinn retorted. "You don't know him," she said to Sam as she stood, walking out the room. "I'm going to the kitchen. Puck and I… we need to talk."

"Yes, you do. He needs to go home, Quinn." Judy warned.

Despite not being able to see her, she knew that Quinn rolled her green eyes at her words.

Judy looked down at the perfect, precious, polite and pretty boy lying on her expensive couch and smiled warmly.

"Well, isn't this a… surprise," she said lamely, clearing her throat. Sam winced, but managed to smile.

* * *

Quinn was just so… aware of him. She tried focusing on Sam, instead of _him_, taking the icepack without so much as a glance, but every move he made in her periphery was enough to make her heart rate speed up. To make her cheeks burn—with anger, of course! When he made his way out of the room she was relieved at first, but she worried that he'd left. _You don't need him. Let him go. Just look at what he did to Sam's face!_

"Quinnie," her mother said from the doorway.

Quinn immediately stood erect and fiddled with the ice pack in her hands. When she suddenly remembered that she hadn't done anything wrong, she straightened.

Meeting her mother's eyes, she saw the questions and the veiled accusations and couldn't help the insolent tone from coating her words. She bent over Sam's unconscious form once more and, as if on cue, he groaned.

"What happened?" Sam's voice further irritated her, so she huffed in annoyance. She heard her mother click her tongue and it took every ounce of self-control she had to keep from rolling her eyes. Judy walked forward and took the ice pack from Quinn's grasp, motioning towards the kitchen with her slender hands.

It was then that Quinn realized that he—Puck—was still in the house.

"Go." Her mother instructed.

_And face him?_, she wanted to ask. Instead, she felt herself shake her head.

"Go." Her mother repeated.

"Did that Puckerman kid really slug me?" Sam spoke again and Quinn was instantly grateful for his presence. She didn't want to confront her mother's questioning glare again. Didn't want to fully realize why she cared so much about _him_.

Sam's voice was groggy and she wondered why she always hurt the people in her life.

"He did more than just slug you," Quinn answered, her voice soft.

"He's insane."

"He is _not_ insane!" Quinn wanted to hit him. Quinn wanted to pull out his annoyingly _blond_ hair and throw a tantrum.

"Quinnie," her mother warned.

"Well he's not. You don't know him," she said coldly, standing once more. "I'm going to the kitchen." She puckered her lip, choosing her words carefully—she knew her mother didn't like Puck. Knew that her mother would rather she choose Sam or Finn or Mike or _Artie _before she choose 'That Puckerman Kid.' "Puck and I… we need to talk."

Quinn swept out of the living room, but still caught her mother's warning. Now that she was safely out of sight from her mother's penetrating gaze, she rolled her eyes. She knew that Puck was not welcome, but he couldn't go home yet. Not before she gave him a piece of her mind.

She tried to gather her thoughts on her way to the kitchen, walking as slowly as she could to bide her time. She knew she has the tendency to show her cracks whenever she's around him and she wants to—_needs to_—prove to him (and herself) that she's strong.

* * *

She walked into the kitchen and he suddenly realized he didn't know what to say.

He jumped off of the stool and she raised her eyebrow, the hint of a sneer on her gorgeous face. Feeling awkward, he rubbed his palms on his jeans and opened his mouth to apologize.

"What you did out there," she said, raising her hand to silence his would-be excuses. She knows him too well. "It was inexcusable." Her voice was soft, menacing and he couldn't help but wince.

She folded her arms and (_adorably_) jut out her chin, narrowing her eyes. He shifted his weight and sighed, feeling more sheepish than ever before. The sound of his soft sigh startled her and she lost her resolve for a beat. He pretended he didn't notice.

"I know that what I did was bunk, okay?" Her face softened at his words and the change is imperceptible to anyone but him. "But..."

His voice trailed off as memories invaded his mind. He wondered if he was somehow reading her mind, since the change in direction—from wanting to apologize to Quinn and get the hell out of her life, to suddenly realizing how much he loves her and cherishes the moments he spent with her last spring—was so sudden. Studying her face, he noticed her wet eyes.

He took two long strides and was instantly at her side.

"Don't," she warned as he tried to put his arms around her delicate frame. "Don't touch me."

Why was she so difficult? One minute, he understood her better than the Spanish lesson Mr Schue gave them on the verb "tener", the next, her mood change was so sudden that he feels the strain from the whiplash.

"What the hell, Fabray? First, you won't let me apologize for being a dick," he listed, lifting his forefinger. "Then you act all emotional like the very sight of me reminds you of _her._ Of _us_. Of..."

"Stop it." She wouldn't even meet his gaze this time.

He backed off, shaking his head and waving his arms in front of him.

"Stop what? Talkin' about her? Giving a damn about you? About us?"

"Please, stop," she whispered, wrapping her arms around her abdomen.

He leaned against the countertop, huffing angrily and glaring at the floor. He finally looked up at Quinn and felt a pang of guilt when he saw the fierce determination in her eyes. He knew that she was fighting back tears, trying to keep her emotions in check. Just as he'd bottled up his rage—built up over months of avoidance—letting it build and build and build.

"I can't help it," he mumbled.

"What?" He watched, transfixed, as she brushed a blonde strand off of her perfect face—her eyes guarded.

There's a beat and he reluctantly turned his gaze to the floor.

"Feeling protective of you."

His voice was too soft and her silence made him wonder if she even heard him. That is until she uttered three words that managed to shatter his already broken heart.

"You should go."

He nodded, clenching his jaw and trying his best not to look at her. He knew that one look at her would make the numbing pain in his chest flare and, for once, he just wanted to forget. He'll play by her rules now and will deny that what he feels is real.

If she can do it, why can't he? _Right?_

He stopped at the entryway and, eyes still locked on the floor, said what he'd wanted to say since he realized how bad he is for her. Since he used Sam's body to alleviate some of the pressure settled in his chest.

"I give up, Fabray. Have a nice life."

As he left the kitchen, he stumbled into a sympathetic Sam Evans. Puck looked the kid up and down and Sam lifted his arms again that night, conveying with his eyes that he meant no harm. Déjà vu.

Sam made a motion to say something but Puck spoke first.

"Take care of her."

He looked down at his hands then back at Sam's swollen face.

"You might wanna put the icepack back on your face, though, fish lips." He gave the blond a wink and walked down the hall. Spying Quinn's mom in the living room, Puck nodded once in her direction as he opened the door. The crisp November air washed over his skin and it suddenly dawned on him: he was more alone than ever before.

* * *

Quinn watched him leave, but she couldn't bring herself to stop him.

She heard his exchange with Sam, but had no right to interfere.

She heard the door slam, but knew it was too late to change her mind.

So, she stood alone in the kitchen, wringing her hands and taking deep breaths. She forced a smile on her face and stopped her motions when Sam entered the kitchen.

"Hi!" She said breathlessly. Clearing her throat, she tried to speak once more. "I mean, hi," her voice soft and another tight smile on her face.

"You okay?" Sam took a step closer and put his hands on her waist. She could see the confusion, the pity, the hurt and—_could it be?_—the understanding on his face.

Quinn tried to laugh. Really, she did. But the sound was as tight as her smile. "Fine."

Sam nodded and pulled her closer, hugging her tight.

"I'm gonna go. Your mom's tired. I just wanted to make sure you're okay. So..." he half-smiled at her and she wondered why his charm has no effect on her. "Are you sure you're good?"

"Peachy."

She winced slightly when Sam's lips touched her forehead, but she managed to smile somewhat genuinely when he left her in the kitchen. Her hands shaking and her body numb, but she made her way to the sink and poured herself a glass of water.

She bit her lip, filling the glass and she looking outside, the cold November night beckoned her. She realized then, as she gazed at the trees dancing with the wind, that life would be so much easier if she knew what was going to happen. But, as she'd learned the previous year, life isn't that simple. _She's_ not that simple.

* * *

Looking both ways as he made his way down the Fabray's front porch (he's already been on the receiving end of Puck's right hook and Sam's not in the mood for another assault, okay?), he rushed to his parked car. Safe and sound and sitting comfortably in the vehicle, he finally let himself _think_.

He ran a hand roughly through his hair and shook his head in confusion. Tonight was... _weird_. And that's weird in more ways than one. Sure, he had known that he'd have an awkward time at Santana's party (the girl who claimed he had no game had given him several flashes of her boobs all night long), but the whole deal with Quinn and Puck was just bizarre. He'd heard from Finn—and Artie, Mike, Mercedes and Kurt—that Quinn and Puck had a "history" together, but he never expected for Puck to turn into a vicious psycho.

Then again, Sam reasoned, his stint in juvie probably changed him for the worse. He shuddered, thinking about Puck in a cold dark cell. Having to press his back-side to the wall in the showers...

_Wait a minute... Where'd that come from?_ He shook his head again and leaned his head against the head rest. He's tired. That's all. He shouldn't read too much into his thoughts...

Not tonight. He's already freakin' confused.

Turning the key in the ignition, he pulled away from Quinn's house and thought back to the moment he picked her up earlier that night. He knew tonight would "make or break" his relationship with Quinn and he can't help but think it... broke. I mean, she ditched _him_ for... the other guy. He hit his palm against the steering wheel, his frustration making him rev his engine.

It's not like Sam had been looking for a girlfriend. And it's not like Sam _wanted _to get his ass kicked by someone who'd been in jail. And it's not like Sam knew what he was doing in the first place! Everything that had happened this year was out of his control. Maybe not all of it, but definitely the important stuff.

His relationship with Quinn had all started out so well... He had never expected the perfect head cheerleader to even look his way. Hell, he figured he would just coast it at McKinley, like he'd coasted at his other schools. His dad's company relocates him almost every other year, so Sam's never stayed in one place long enough to make friends. Billings Academy, the all-boys school he attended for middle school and his freshman year last year, was the first school where he stayed longer than six months. His family and younger sister Jo, moved to Argentina, but Sam went to boarding school. He just wanted to make friends and he knew if he went with them, that he'd go to at least three different schools in a Spanish speaking country. And Sam? He has enough trouble speaking the English language correctly, let alone Spanish. When he'd first transferred to Billings, he'd tried out for the choir, but he didn't really fit in there. Lucky for him, he's naturally athletic, so he joined all of the sports teams at Billings and found his niche, y'know? No one really picked on him, but he never had any real friends, either.

So when the rest of the Evans family moved back to the States, Sam joined them. His parents even bought him this sweet ride. He figured it was their way of saying sorry for missing out on two years of parenting.

All in all, Sam's doing good. He has a cool car, he's got _friends _and he's got glee.

Let's face it, Sam's also a natural performer. So when the opportunity arose for him to be in glee, Sam couldn't say no.

And when Quinn Fabray—perfect, pretty, popular Quinn Fabray—became his duet partner, he was stoked. Granted, Sam felt like a dick since Kurt ditched him at the last minute, but he figured you win some, you lose some. He still couldn't shake the feeling, though, that Kurt could've been his first, _real _friend. Sure, Finn is nice enough (when he's not trying to outdo him). Mike and Artie are friendly out on the field, but Kurt was—_is_ more approachable. And even though their partnership, as Kurt had called it, was terminated before they even selected a song to sing in glee club, he's happy that Kurt still chats with him on AIM. (Sam would never admit it, but Kurt's rendition of Prince's "Kiss" had been on repeat for the past month and a half.)

Just that morning on the day of the party, they'd talked candidly about Puck and Quinn. He was just reading the email notification that his favourite _Avatar_ fanfic had been updated, taking the occasional sip of his protein shake, when an AIM chat window popped up on his screen.

**FashionablyKurt** _Hello, Sam._

Sam smiled as he typed in his reply.

**Sam-I-Am** hey kurt.

**FashionablyKurt **_Will you be at Santana's house party tonight?_

**Sam-I-Am **Q wants to go but im iffy on the whole thing

**Sam-I-Am **satana freaks me out.

**Sam-I-Am **lol

**FashionablyKurt **_:) It's SANTana, Sam. Unless you meant that typo._

**Sam-I-Am **honest mistake. ;)

**FashionablyKurt **_Well if you do decide to go together, remember that Puck's also invited. He and Quinn have a... complicated past. Didn't Finn talk to you? Last month? Just after the duets competition?_

Yeah. He talked to him. But Sam still didn't get why Quinn was some sort of untouchable entity.

"I'm not telling you not to date her," Finn had said. "That's your call, man. But it's a major glee party foul." Finn sat down next to him in Spanish and continued. "Puck's in juvie right now and, I know I'm not supposed to talk about it, but he cares about Quinn. And Quinn? Sure, we're not friends, but I don't want to see her get hurt." He thought for a minute. "Again." Finn had offered Sam a half-smile and Sam couldn't help but give Finn a half-hearted smile in return.

"Well, to be honest, I'm not going after her." Noticing Finn's disbelieving look, he backpedaled. "Okay, sure. I tried to kiss her, but she's the one that called our dinner at Breadstix a date. She's the one who's been calling me. I'm not doing anything."

Finn blew out a breath.

"Look, I'm just saying that if this creates more drama... you might not be welcome in glee. Anymore."

Deciding that it was probably best to get the complete backstory on Puck and Quinn once and for all, Sam drew in a breath and typed.

**Sam-I-Am **do you know why they broke up?

**FashionablyKurt **_..._

**FashionablyKurt **_To be honest, no one really knows what they were last year. Were they dating? Were they friends? Did they even like one another? Sure, he was her—and I quote—"baby daddy", but outside of that, they're an enigma._

**FashionablyKurt **_Look, Sam, I'm probably not the best to ask about this, since what I do know is what I've heard firsthand from Quinn and that was said in confidence. What I can say is that he "wasn't boyfriend material."_

Sam had to hand it to Kurt. He didn't want to betray his friend's confidence, but what he did divulge to Sam had been enough to give him hope. Quinn needed a man who was boyfriend material. He just had to show her that he was that dude.

**Sam-I-A **yah. i get taht.

**Sam-I-A **1 more question. howd puckrman take it when they broke up?

**FashionablyKurt **_Unsolved mystery. It happened over the summer. I was over at Finn's house for dinner and Puck came over. He looked like he was close to tears. It was... unnerving. Anyway, Finn took him bowling, so I don't really know._

Ouch. Dude had been hurting.

**Sam-I-A **i should get goin. nice talking to you kurt :D

He typed quickly and logged off before Kurt could reply.

That was this morning and after his chat with Kurt, Sam had been convinced he could win Quinn over once and for all. Sure, he finally realized how complicated it all was. Glee club. Quinn. Puck. Sam. Who knew that three people could affect the entire club? Sam just wanted to be liked. Just like everyone else.

His dad had stressed how important the first day would be. How he would be "fresh meat", so he'd have to keep his chin high and his fists ready. Sam had never had a fight in his life, but his old man was positive he'd win. And when Sam got to McKinley that day, he'd noticed Quinn. It's hard to miss a girl who looked so vulnerable. Even in her Cheerios uniform, it was clear that she was... broken. So when Sam saw her—Quinn Fabray—performing with New Directions a week later during lunch, he figured that joining would be the easiest way of befriending her.

He had watched them perform and when the music stopped and Finn, Rachel and the rest sulked back inside, Quinn had stayed back... Puck was there, too. Sam had watched as he approached her, his arms outstretched like he was begging. Quinn held her head high and walked around him, marching into the school. Puck was left alone—his jaw clenched and a definite frown on his face.

Since then, though, Sam didn't really give him too much thought. Maybe he should've. After all, Artie, Mike, Mercedes, Finn and Kurt had all freaked him out.

_Puck's pretty dope. Sure, he used to lock me in the port-a-potty and I usually take the long way to math, since I'm kinda terrified that he'll push me down the stairs again, but he's nice._

_Complicated history. I dunno if you wanna get caught up in that, dude. But Puck won't kill you. He might threaten you, but come on. What do you expect? You're with his _baby mama_, dude._

_Oh, white boy. You better watch it. One, because Puck's mohawked ass will kill you for stealing his girl and two, because _I'll_ personally strangle you if you break my girl's heart. Got it?_

_Listen, Sam. Right now, I kinda feel responsible for you. You know, since you joined glee and all. Anyway, I guess what I'm trying to say is... don't mess things up. When Puck comes back, I mean. Please._

_Oh, to be a fly on the wall in the Puckerman and Fabray households. All I can say is watch your back, new guy._

As he looked back on everything, Sam realized how stupid and naive his actions were. It was a lucky break that all he got from Puck was a black eye. Sure, his cheek was five times its normal size, but it could've been worse.

All Sam wanted to do was is get home and go to bed. He knew his dad was going to kill him when he saw his face in the morning_._

* * *

Quinn fiddled with the phone in her hands.

She knew she should put it aside before the temptation to send him a text overpowered her.

She knew she should leave it alone.

She knew he had made too many mistakes in the past.

That they're too different.

That her mother barely tolerates him.

That he makes (_... made?_) her heart skip every beat.

That they've had their moments.

That she feels... _something_ for him.

_But_, another voice rang in her head,_ isn't she with Sam_? Texting Puck would set her back. Or rather, would set her _and Sam_ back. This relationship with Sam had to be done the _right_ way. With Friday night dates, duets in glee club, status, popularity and the promise of a shiny gold crown in spring.

She's messed up too many friendships. Too many relationships. Too many things in her life. Just once, she'd like to get something right. And if that something is Sam, she'll take it. _Is that harsh?_, she wondered. That harsh voice sounded so cold and calculating. When did she turn into her mother?

Quinn sat up, running her fingers through her hair, curling a strand around her finger.

She bit her lip and typed out a message.

_I really miss you. Especially now._

She hit send before she could regret what she did.

* * *

Puck sat on Santana's bed, a passed out Brittany beside him, while Santana rummaged through her clothes for a condom.

After his incident with the hot Cheerio, Puck really needed to prove that his stud-ness. And quick. News spreads fast at McKinley and he never, ever, wants this dirty little secret to see the light of day. What was God's issue with him? Puck's a good Jew (most of the time). He's an okay son (when it suits him). And he would've been a great father (of that he's sure). Then why can't he get it up?

"A-ha!" he heard Santana say. "Found it." When she stood, she held the condom between her fingers for him to see. "Ready to _play_?"

She crawled toward him just as the cell phone in his jeans pocket buzzed to signal a new text. He could practically see the daggers shooting out of Santana's sex-crazed eyes as she glared at his right thigh.

"Turn it off, Puckerman," she ordered.

Puck rolled his eyes and buried his hands in his pocket, retrieving his phone. He was about to place it on her nightstand, Santana's hands inching up his leg as she purred his name, but all he saw was _BabyM_. He looked down at Santana and saw her lick her lips. It was clear she wanted to sex him up and he would have gladly obliged—if this was last year. This year he wants to do the one boy, one girl thing. This year he wants to stay true to his promises. This year he doesn't want to hear the pain in her voice as she questions him ("_I thought you wanted to be with me."_)

This year he doesn't want to hurt her.

Just as Santana's (_magical, wonderful, could-get-him-to-promise-to-take-her-shopping-if-she-just-keeps-rubbing-him-that-way_) hands reached for his belt buckle, Puck stood.

"It's my mom," he lied. "She was called in to work, so I have to watch Hannah."

Santana raised an eyebrow and he could practically see the smoke shooting out of her ears. He swallowed, fearing the worst, but Puck knows Santana better than anyone else. There are times he wonders if they share a brain.

"But that doesn't mean we can't have fun later," he said lowly, stroking her arm with his forefinger. "Like later this week. After glee?"

He waited, his smirk frozen as he silently willed her to answer.

She crossed her thin arms, huffing a bit.

"Whatever. I'll see if Britt's up for some sexytimes tomorrow." Santana muttered and Puck's smile grew. "It's not like I care that we haven't had sex in _months_," she added sourly.

"Great, I'll see you Monday!" Puck shouted over his shoulder as he rushed out of Santana's room.

As soon as he was outside, standing on Santana's porch, he pulled his phone back out and text the following.

_don't lock your window. I'll b there asap._

* * *

**AN:** I really appreciate you all for reading this fic. And to all of you who added this to your alerts, I'm sorry I didn't update sooner. My life is one big ball of busy and work comes first. Still, I want to thank you all for showing interest. :)

Two things: 1) I know I go off on a tangent about Sam, but I think it's important for this story to show how Puck and Quinn's relationship affects the entire glee club. I might have veered off a bit, but it was fun coming up with a backstory for Sam. He's quickly becoming a favourite of mine. Can you blame me, though? Sweet boy is sweet. 2) I actually intended for Puck to have sex with Santana and have the Quick discussion later in the fic, but with the way Glee is going right now, I don't think I can handle any more angst. Most of my fics are fluffy and I prefer it that way.

This fic is like therapy for me. I just really miss Quick and fanfic is the one place where the story is told the way we want it to play out.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Glee. I merely used Ryan Murphy's amazing characters to get me out of my writer's block. All typos, errors and overall crappiness belong to me.

* * *

"Took you long enough," Quinn said as soon as she saw Puck walk up her walkway.

She was already waiting for him, something Puck hadn't expected. He'd thought he'd have to get her attention, beckon her outside by throwing pebbles against her window. Something he'd done over the summer. A tradition he hadn't wanted to stop.

Or, he figured, he could've snuck through her window. Something he'd only done twice before. (But really wanted to do again.) A tradition he could get used to.

He reached the shadowed porch and couldn't tell whether her tone was mocking or sincere. He'd run as fast as he could to reach her; her text sending a surge of adrenaline through his body, making it impossible for him to stand still, for him to walk.

He said nothing and sat on the steps, still staring at her face. She was covered in shadow, but as his eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness, he could make out her soft features. He saw the soft smile on her face and swallowed thickly. He sometimes found it hard to believe that she's real. Dressed only in a white nightgown, she's more angel than human. Sent to Lima to help wretches like him get better. Motivate them to _be _better.

Quinn stared back, unable to hold back her smile. She knew he'd come back. She knew that no matter what she said or did, he'd always come back and that alone was reason for her to smile.

"Sorry," she finally says, breaking the comfortable silence.

"For what?"

She looked at her hands, suddenly regretting her impulsive decision to text him. What had she been expecting? Noah Puckerman couldn't save her. She wasn't his to save. She avoided his gaze, biting lightly on her lip, but forced herself to meet his steady gaze. He was so honest and open with her; she owed him that, too.

"For ignoring your calls." Her voice was soft, full of regrets and something Puck couldn't really make out. "Your texts," she continued. "Your help."

She stared down at her lap, not knowing what to do.

He knew this was as hard for her as it was for him. They'd been doing this ever since he can remember. He pushes, she pulls away. He gives up, she reaches for him. It's a fucked up game of cat and mouse, but it's their game. He doubts he'd have it any other way, since a moment with her... a fleeting glance, a small smile... makes up for all of the shit he's had to endure.

"I get why you did it," he replied gruffly. Not daring to look away from her, fearing that she'd disappear if he did. "It hurt me, too," he admitted in the comfort of darkness.

Quinn dared to look up, meeting Puck's hazel eyes. He looked so changed since he'd been back from his sentence in juvenile hall. It was only a couple of months, but she can tell that it was enough to leave him scarred and the fact she recognizes that scares her. She shouldn't know him as well as she does. But she does. And really, when she's honest with herself, she wouldn't have it any other way.

"It's easier to pretend." She can't believe how easy it is to be honest with herself—honest with him—in the dark.

He scoffed, looking away quickly, trying to control his anger at her unaffected words.

"It's really... not," he shook his head.

She can't help it, then. All of these hushed confessions were forcing her to confront her demons. To look deep within herself and make a choice. Something she never wanted to do again. Her last decisions have been too painful. Too hard to take.

Puck watched as her shoulders heaved and for once in his life, he felt no remorse for making a girl cry.

Hell, he hadn't even been the cause for it. Not really. He wasn't going to lie to her anymore. He wasn't going to help her delude herself to rid herself of the guilt. He'd kept his trap shut that day in the hospital, knowing that no matter what he wanted—to start a life with her, to keep their daughter—the choice was hers to make. So he kept quiet.

He's regretted it ever since.

But tonight, after being "summoned" by her yet again, he won't stay quiet. He needs to say these things. Needs to rid himself of this pressing guilt, the never-ending parade of "what ifs". He pushed himself off the stairs and started to pace. His body felt like one tight nerve and he can't, for the life of him, stay sitting.

"I'd help you!" He exploded. "Christ. I'm the only one who's going through this," he motioned between them. "It's been _five_ months since she left. _Three_ since you stopped speaking to me. _One_ since I got out of _jail_, Quinn. Jail. And all I did while I was trapped inside four ugly as ass walls, was ask myself what I would do differently."

Her lip trembled.

"What would you change?" She had to know. Does he regret her? Does he regret those five months? Does he regret letting her make the calls?

"Other than juvie?" He asked, his voice laced with sarcasm.

She smiled, despite herself, nodding slightly in the dark.

Puck slumped his shoulders, feeling as though the weight of the world rested on his back. "Nothing."

He kept pacing, kept looking up at her as tears fell down her face. _Don't care._

He couldn't, shouldn't, wouldn't care anymore.

Neither could believe the turn the night had taken. And with every confession they made, there was a sick need to push further and further, to get to the bottom of their issues.

"I hate that you won't talk to me." He stopped pacing, looking up at her through downcast eyes. He shook his head and kept pacing. "You won't even look at me. But I would rather you look and talk to me because you want to and not because I wished for it. I want you to want me back, Quinn."

The sincerity of his words was almost too much for her. Knowing she'd hurt him as much as she'd hurt herself does something to her chest and more tears continue to fall from her green eyes.

She stood up and walked purposefully towards him, standing on her tiptoes to plant a soft kiss on his lips.

Puck pulled away and stitched his eyebrows together. He's instantly furious.

"No," he searched her eyes, willing himself to understand what's going through her beautiful head. "You can't dick me around like that. You either want all of me," he knew he'd regret the next words, but a masochistic need to punish himself combined with a sick desire to punish her, propelled him to speak. "Or none of me." Even as the ultimatum flowed from his mouth, he couldn't help but feel relieved. He was finally standing up to her. Finally proving to her that he has a brain and heart and at least a semblance of dignity (even though he finds it difficult to believe); she had to respect him, too.

Quinn couldn't believe it. This was so not what she'd wanted. Not what she'd planned. Didn't Puck see that she _did_ need him? Needed to feel the weight of his body on top of hers? To feel his hands in hers? To know he'd _be_ there? She knows she's selfish and will reluctantly admit that she's manipulative. But she's never meant to "dick him around". All of the things they've been through should be proof of that. He knows her—inside and out—or so she thought. He knows she finds it hard to be honest, even with herself. She can't bear disappointing anyone and he knows she feels she's disappointed him.

But with every word that seeped from him, she felt he'd never known her. Not really. Not the way she knows him.

"If you need me to be there for you, I will." He continued, his eyes pleading with her to understand. "But you can't use me. Not anymore."

"I-I..." she couldn't form the words. Knowing, deep down, that he was right. "I don't want to use you," she admitted, looking anywhere but at him. Her voice thick with regret and embarrassment and even in the moonlight, Puck could see the pink tinge to her cheeks. She finally met his eyes, "I need you."

He didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Was she serious? All of these mixed messages did nothing but add to his ever-pressing guilt. He can't seem to be rid of it, no matter what he does, and that terrifies him.

He took her soft hands in his, gently stroking them with his thumbs.

"You need to figure out what you want before you need something—or someone—to fill an empty space in your life, Quinn. 'Cause it ain't Sam." She flinched at the mention of her quasi-boyfriend. "It was never me, either." She shook her head at that, attempted to speak, but he silenced her with his eyes. "You need to remember to look out for _you_."

Quinn wanted to speak, but breathing, let alone speaking, was impossible. She opened her mouth, stared into his eyes, begging him to stay. He leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss against her forehead and left.

* * *

**AN: **It was _so_ therapeutic to write this chapter! If only someone in canon would remind Quinn that she doesn't need someone in her life to make herself feel good, eh? *sigh* Anyway, I know it's much shorter than my first two chapters, but I already have chapter four planned out. In fact, I'll probably even post that in a week or so. Yay, progress!

A thousand apologies for posting this now. Real life is a pain and I'm finding it even harder to find time to sit down and write. Anyway, thanks for reading and adding this to your alerts! I appreciate all of you taking the time to read what I post!


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: **I know I'm terrible at updating this fic, but I want to thank each and every one of you for reading!

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Glee. I merely used Ryan Murphy's amazing characters to get me out of my writer's block. All typos, errors and overall crappiness belong to me.

* * *

"Hey, Rach! Wait up!" Finn called after his girlfriend as she walked up the stairs to her next class.

Rachel turned to look down at the smiling boy and stopped mid-step. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she smiled down at him, closing her eyes and puckering her lips, requesting a kiss. Finn chuckled lightly and brought his lips to meet hers.

"How was your Sunday?" He asked when they pulled apart. They continued their walk up, as Rachel slipped her small hand into his. Students jostled past them, all of them hurrying to their next period. "Did your parents freak 'cause you broke curfew?"

Noticing the worried expression on Finn's face, Rachel gave his hand a light squeeze as they reached the top of the stairs. "No," she replied. "I simply explained that Noah was having a difficult time that night and that, given his inebriated state, you and I had offered to drive him home, which was why I got home twenty minutes past my curfew."

"So you lied," Finn asked, smirking. "Who are you and what have you done with my girlfriend?" he joked, arching an eyebrow. Noticing Rachel's blush, he smiled, adding, "Kidding, Rach."

"I know, but..." she pursed her lips, not knowing how to proceed."You're right. I shouldn't have lied to them. It's just... our relationship is going so well right now that I was worried that being forthright with them would only lead to questions and that would eventually lead to them finding out about you sneaking into my room most nights and to be honest, Finn, I have never been grounded in my whole life! Quite honestly, the entire concept frightens me. It seems... _barbaric_. And, besides," she smiled shyly up at him, the effect making Finn's heart hammer against his chest. "Being grounded would mean that I couldn't see you as often as I do. I would hate that."

Finn smiled, letting go of her hand to lightly pull her against his side. "I get it. But, just in case, maybe you should tell them the truth. It's not like we were doing anything _bad _that night anyway." He shrugged.

Looking back on their Saturday night, it had lived up to his expectations. Sure, a night spent at the Lopez's mansion was nothing new to him, but spending the entire evening with Rachel glued to his side was a welcome change. She was in awe of everything and Finn couldn't help but smile at her cute observations.

_"Beer pong. _Beer. Pong. _The name makes me think of some video game. Don't you have one called '_Bong_' or something?" _

_"Is Noah tapping his knuckles against the keg because he's testing to see how hollow it is? He could just open it if he wanted to check for that." _

_"Everyone is peeling the labels off their alcohol bottles. It's fascinating! I wonder what it suggests about their current state of mind." _

_"Santana's parents must trust her immensely to let her throw _this_ kind of party..." _

_"Did you see those two girls go into the room with that boy? Finn, what if one of them gets _impregnated_?"_

_"I... I thought that only happened in movies." _

Sure, things had been off to a shaky start after Azimio shoved him against the wall, but he and Karofsky somehow backed off after that brief exchange. Finn figured that the two homophobes realized that no matter what they said or did, Finn wasn't about to let anything ruin his night. And, to be honest, things would have been _perfect_ had it not been for Puck.

All night long, Finn worried that Puck would pull some shit stunt. He always did. It was Puck's MO. (_Score! _Finn had always wanted to use the term ever since he heard it used in the movie _Taxi_ with Jimmy Fallon―Puck had made fun of him for actually liking that movie, but Finn couldn't help but relate to Andy. The guy was a shit driver and, well... let's just say that Finn wasn't the _best_ driver.) And ever since Puck's been back from juvie, Finn's been waiting for the moment when everything just goes to shit. That's why he offered to give Puck a lift home. That's why Finn knew that Rachel shouldn't worry about his childhood friend.

Puck can, and always will, take care of himself.

And anyway, Puck had spent the whole night holed away in Santana's kitchen, doing God knows what. The only time Finn really saw the dude was when he went to the bathroom and happened to "look in" on Puck (Finn won't admit it, but he was worried, okay? It's not like he hadn't known Puck since third grade. Not like Finn doesn't know what Puck will do to get attention. Hello, stealing an ATM machine? Totally a Puck-stunt.) and saw him hitting the keg pretty hard. So, it was no surprise that he offered him a ride home. Dude shouldn't drive after drinking that much. He _just _got out of juvie.

And okay. Finn will admit he loves it when Rachel takes on other people's problems as if they're her own. She's just so... _nice_, y'know? And seeing her worry over Puck did things to his heart. Made him want to act impulsively and y'know, do the right thing. Do things like offer the dude a ride home.

And, all right. After Puck jumped out of his car at the intersection on Dudley Road, Finn's pants might have gotten a bit tighter at the idea of being alone for the first time that night with Rachel. He's a dude. He can't help that his girlfriend smells like Christmas and vanilla and apples all rolled into one. He can't help that just thinking about touching her makes his stomach churn in the best way possible.

He. Can't. Help. It.

So, yeah. When they got to Rachel's house, Finn might have been a bit... _handsier_ than usual, but that wasn't why she was late for curfew. They were in the middle of their makeout, when Rachel pulled back. Finn was totally confused. Wasn't she feeling it that night?

"What's wrong," he'd asked, frowning a bit.

"If I tell you something, do you promise you won't get upset?"

Finn knew that when Rachel said something like that, it meant he wasn't going to like what she was about to say.

But he was curious.

"Okay..."

"Look, I know you don't like talking or even _thinking_ about either Quinn or Noah." She paused, briefly, and Finn wanted to stop her; wanted to get back to their mack session. But he knew that he'd promised not to get upset and if he kissed her, he'd show her how upset he really was. So, he took a breath and forced a smile. Rachel sensed his discomfort and placed her hand over his. "But Finn, you and I both know that what they went through this summer was absolutely traumatizing. To give up a child... I... I can't even imagine. And look. I know you don't like Shelby," Finn tensed when Rachel mentioned her birth mother's name. He had spent many nights helping her sort through her Shelby issues. It was because of Shelby and Jesse that Rachel went into that funk the previous year. Still, he made a promise, so he squeezed her hand, urging her to continue. She took a breath. "But what she did for Quinn and Noah... it was the right thing. And those few times that you and I had the opportunity to spend time with them... when they were together... you must have..." she paused and Finn looked up to meet her gaze. He leaned forward, smiling before pressing a soft kiss on her forehead. She smiled at his tender gesture. "I know that while it still makes you uncomfortable, that you would never stand in the way of either Noah or Quinn's happiness because that's who you are, Finn. You want everyone to feel joyful and you wish no one ill will. You're just so... kind."

"Hey, you're making my head blow up," he smiled.

Rachel giggled. "I'm serious, Finn. I know you saw what I did this summer. Noah and Quinn. They were happy. I would argue they were as happy as we are in this instant. But... after you and Noah went to football camp, Quinn distanced herself. I know she stopped hanging out with Mercedes and, while I know we were never as close as she and Mercedes were, Quinn confided in me. I know there was mutual respect between us. I know..."

"I get it, Rach," Finn said lightly, interrupting what he knew would soon turn into a nervous ramble. "But where are you goin' with this?"

Rachel answered his question with steely determination.

"We need to get them back together."

Of course, by that time it was already way past Rachel's curfew and that was the exact moment her father, Leroy, phoned to say he could see Finn's mom's car from their window and _are you planning on coming in anytime soon_?

Since Saturday night, Rachel and Finn only contacted one another through texts. There wasn't any sense in giving her fathers any reason to forbid her from seeing him. That would be suckier than that time he got sick over the summer. Granted, they were only allergies, but Rachel didn't want to risk getting sick, so he only saw her once that whole week.

But thanks to Leroy's call, Finn had narrowly avoided telling his girlfriend to leave Puck and Quinn alone. He's sure it would've led to an argument and Finn _hates_ it when he and Rachel fight. Sure, it doesn't happen often, but he'll do _anything_ he can to avoid them. Besides, Finn didn't want to get mixed up in all of that. As happy as he was that Puck was genuinely happy with Quinn (and visa versa. Like, he's happy that Quinn's happy, too. He may not love her the way he loves Rachel, but he knows Quinn's not a bad person. Not intentionally or anything.), it still hurt to see them together. It was a constant reminder of what they did to him. And, sure, hanging out with them had been easier than he'd thought, but... still. Finn had pride, okay, and helping the two people who made last year's Christmas break miserable for him is not something he ever planned on doing.

Does that make him a bad person?

"Finn?" Rachel asked, bringing him out of his thoughts. "What's wrong?"

Puck chose that exact moment to push his way past them and Rachel used her mind-reading powers to decipher exactly why Finn was so quiet.

"You know, we really should talk about Quinn and Noah," she said quietly.

"Rachel, drop it," Finn snapped. The moment he caught the hurt in Rachel's eye, Finn felt like the King of the Douchenozzles. "Look, I'm sorry. But... can you drop it? _Please_?"

"No, I will not drop it." Rachel's hands rested on her hips. "Noah is your friend. And, fine. Quinn and I aren't exactly bffs or whatever, but I like to think that she and I are friends, too. Don't you..." she swallowed thickly. "Don't you want our friends to be happy? Like us?"

"Sure. But I don't see why _we_," he gestured between them. "Need to get involved." His nostrils flared. Why couldn't Rachel understand that this was ridiculous?

Rachel's expression softened and she put her hand on Finn's arm. Finn met her gaze and he really was convinced of his girlfriend's psychic abilities. Yeah, he really should stop imagining her naked when she's right next to him, shouldn't he?

"Look," she said. "I know that what Quinn and Noah did to you caused you a great deal of pain. And I know that you're too proud to voice this out loud. But I feel passionately about this."

"And I feel just as much as you do."

She glared at him, stomping her small foot in frustration.

"FINE. This is one time that we'll have to _agree_ to disagree!"

"WHY ARE YOU YELLING AT ME?"

"I am _not_ yelling. I am being _forceful_. There is a difference."

"Are you calling me stupid?"

"My God, Finn! Where are you getting this?"

"You might not be saying it with your mouth or whatever, but you're definitely saying it with your eyes. Rachel, Why. Can't. You. Just. _Drop._ It?" Finn pulled on his hair, frustrated beyond belief at how their happy morning had been disrupted by Saturday's events. Finn knew he was being the opposite of cool right now, but Rachel's determination was really getting under his skin, okay?

"What are you even saying?" Rachel retorted. "You know what?" She said before he could even formulate a reply to her previous question. "I'll walk myself to class today, thank you." And with that, she turned on her heel and marched into her English class, leaving a very frustrated Finn behind.

* * *

Puck's morning? It's been shit.

Like, liquidy, diarrhea-type shit.

_Explosive _diarrhea shit_._

And it's only gotten worse as the morning goes on.

First, he woke up with a raging boner. That's a plus, really, since it proves that his junk isn't broken or whatever, but he's worried. The only reason it was up in the first place was because he kept having these dreams about Quinn. They were so vivid, too. It was like she was right there, sleeping next to him like she had back in January. He could smell the expensive shampoo she'd bought at that salon, could smell the lavender from her lotion. Hell, he could _feel_ the rise and fall of her stomach, the way his arm curved over her form. It was fucked up. Really it was.

And that freaked the shit out of Puck. It's not like they were even sexing it up in his dreams, so what gives? Why was mini-Puckasaurus reacting to Quinn when she wasn't straddled over his lap?

Second, his ma's been on his case again about drinking. He gets it. He does. She's scared he'll end back in the slammer and once was traumatizing enough for the family. His sister Hannah still checks in on him once every night to make sure he's still there. It's as if his little sis is worried he'll just disappear again like he did the night he stole the ATM. But he won't.

But he can't convince either his mom or sister of this.

Third, he caught some Cheerios laughing at him. And that? That's trouble.

He pushed past the hoard of students shuffling their way down the stairs as he hurried to get to his next class. Ever since his return to McKinley, Puck's attendance record is emailed to his proby officer once a week. If he even sits his ass down one _second _after the bell stops ringing, his proby's on the phone. So yeah. Puck was in a hurry.

He saw Finnessa and Berry huddled in the less busy part of the hallway, talking, and, feeling like a dick, he pushed past them, hoping to disrupt their chat. He doesn't even look back to admire his handiwork, he's _that_ focused on getting to Chemistry on time.

But, just as he was about to step foot inside the class, he hears his name springing from the pouty lips of Jenna Eissman. She's the left corner on the Cheerio pyramid, sharing the bottom row with Santana, while Queen Quinn reigns on high. What the hell is she doing talking about him?

He hung back a bit, using the door for cover as he snooped.

"Yeah, Tiff―y'know, the freshman? Anyway, _she_ said they hooked up this weekend. Well, more like they almost did. " She cackled. The chick legit _cackled_! Like a witch!

"No way!"

"Way. And, like―_excuse me!_ Don't shove me! I'm talking here!―Anyway, Tiff said he like, had difficulty. With his piping. If you get my drift." He heard the definite laughter.

Fuck. That's twice now people are laughing at him.

Screw Chemistry. He needed to talk to that loud-mouthed Cheerio and set her straight. His junk is not broken. His piping is just fine. It was her. It had to be. She fucked him up.

_Fuck. _

"Mr. Puckerman?" Mr. Sinclair had his fingers on the door and was about to close it on Puck's face. "Are you joining us today?"

"Yeah." Puck looked dejectedly back at the gossiping Cheerios. "I am."

Fifty boring minutes later and Puck was antsy. When was the bell going to ring? He needed to talk to whatever-the-hell-her-name-was before more people started to talk. 'Cause that would be the cherry on his shiteous day.

The bell went off and Puck ran out, rushing past his surprised teacher and ignoring the bits and pieces of conversations he heard through the crowded hallway.

Knowing the Cheerios, which he does (he's only slept with the majority), he knew that they'd all be congregating in the caf (not eating) during their lunch period.

He turned the corner and that's when he saw her. She-whose-name-he-can't-bother-to-remember.

"Hey," he called after her.

The girl slowly turned on her heel, her eyebrow hitching when she recognized him, a smirk playing on her pretty face.

"Why if it isn't my Saturday night hook-up," she sweetly said. "Thanks for your help!"

"Uh, the fuck is your problem?"

"I'm not the one with the problem," she replied, looking at his crotch.

"Listen, I'll make this easy for you..."

"Puckerman!" Santana approached them, standing beside the girl, hands on her hips. "I suggest you gets the heck away from her. You're wastin' her time. Time she ain't got. 'Cause the Cheerios? We needs to eat."

"No, that's bull! I'm _not_ leaving until Steph here aplogizes!"

"Who's Steph?" Santana asked looking at the younger Cheerio.

"Isn't that her name?" Puck answered, pointing an angry finger at the Cheerio.

With a slightly trembling lip, the Cheerio―Tiff―spoke up. "My name is Tiffany. _Tiff._ How... why don't you remember that? Is it 'cause I'm not _pretty_?"

"Jesus! Go eat," Santana barked, shoving the girl into the cafeteria. She eyed Puck, her lips a thin line. "Spill, Puckerman. Why are you here?"

Puck tensed his jaw, counting mentally to ten with every flex of his muscle.

"I'm waiting."

He took a breath and pulled Santana by the elbow, bringing her closer to him. At her raised eyebrows, Puck finally spoke.

"Saturday night."

Santana narrowed her eyes, her mouth hanging open. "What about it?"

"I... Damn. This is hard."

"Spit it out, Puckerman, afores I yank your dick off!"

Puck instinctively covered his manhood, knowing that Santana's threats―especially when she hasn't had anything to eat―should never be taken lightly. Sam exited the cafeteria just then, nodding politely at his fellow glee clubbers. Obviously sensing an awkward situation, he nearly jogged down the hall.

Puck stared after the blonde wunderkind, hating every little thing about him, before he looked back at the girl beside him.

"Okay, okay." He took a deep breath. "Saturday night I almost hooked up with―the Cheerio that was here. Y'know..." Puck snapped his fingers, trying to come up with the name.

"Tiff," Santana supplied.

"Yeah, her. So we're in Carlos' room―"

"You were in my baby _brother's_ room?"

"Not like we haven't done it there before."

"That's not... Continue."

"_Anyway_, we're starting to get busy. She's panting and moaning and―"

"Spare me the hairy details. Please."

Puck rolled his eyes. "Kay, so we're getting started, right? But I couldn't... That is, my..." Puck felt his face flame in a decidedly unstudly blush. Unable to finish, he hoped Santana would get the hint by raising his eyebrows. At Santana's befuddled expression, however, Puck glanced significantly at his groin.

"You had to pee?" The hot cheerleader guessed.

"Dammit, Lopez." He ran a hand over his face and took a deep breath, managing to answer in one breath, "I-couldn't-get-little-Puck-to-get-up-goddammit!"

Santana's expression―a mix between revulsion, confusion and wonder―would have been funny, but Puck was too busy tensing every muscle in his body to keep from running away, scared and embarrassed, to cower in his bedroom.

"Is that why you booked it out of my room that night?" Santana's hand covered her mouth in shock. "'Cause you knew you wouldn't be able to 'service' me?"

"One, don't call it that. It's gross," Puck tried not to gag. "Second, no. Fuck. I just couldn't have sex with you that night. Don't ask why."

"When you tell me not to ask why, guess what? I want to know _why_. So, spill." She arched a neatly penciled eyebrow. "Or do I have to tell Jose what you almost did in our baby brother's room?"

"Dammit. Fine. I couldn't sleep with you that night 'cause I knew I wouldn't be able to get it up, for one thing, but also... well, I can't do that anymore."

"Do what? Fuck?"She crossed her arms, trying to understand. "So it _is _broken."

"No! I can't just hook up with randoms anymore," Puck answered, exasperated. "There. Happy?"

"I sure as hell am _not _a random, you ass! And, why the hell not? You're not... You don't have an STI, do you?" Santana looked like she wanted to hurl.

"No. I'm not covered in crabs down there, Hopez."

"Screw you, Puckerman. I'm not a ho."

He rolled his eyes. "Whatever, man." He looked down at his shoes, embarrassed and frustrated.

Santana's expression softened. "Does this have anything to do with Q?"

Puck didn't answer. Puck didn't move. Puck wished more than anything that today never happened.

"I get it, dipstick," she said. Smiling softly at her ex-boyfriend-slash-late-night-booty-call, she placed an encouraging hand on his bicep. "To be honest, she's the only other girl I can tolerate you with. Fuck if I didn't want to rip Wheezy's hair out last year. And another thing, _Berry_? Why the hell would you go with _Berry_?"

"We dated for a damn week."

"Still," Santana shuddered. "'Twas nasty."

"You're nasty," Puck said, pushing lightly against her bare shoulder. He smiled. "But now you know."

"Yeah. Douche." Santana licked her lips, looking deep in thought. "Does anyone know about your malfunction?"

"Yes!" Puck threw his hands in the air. "That dumbass freshman made sure that a few of your fellow Cheerios found out."

"Damn." Santana hissed. "You need damage control."

"And how do I fix this. S'not like you let me talk to the blabbermouth!"

"We go to the janitor's closet," Santana smirked.

"Uh... I can't get it..."

"We won't do anything," she said, rolling her eyes. "Just. Trust."

Puck nodded, appreciating the way Santana's mind worked. There was a reason they got along so well.

"Kay," he said with a wicked smile.

* * *

"Is there any chicken today?" Sam asked the friendly lunch lady. "White meat is a lot healthier, y'know," he added conversationally.

"No, we're serving sloppy joes today, Sammy," she answered kindly. "Want some?"

"No, thanks." He pursed his lips, staring at the lunch menu. "I'll have a salad, then."

"Sure!" She handed the food over. "$4.80, please."

Taking the food, he handed the money over. "Thanks."

Sam knew he needed a refuel before he met with Quinn. Every day after his lunch, Sam meets with his... friend? Yeah, he still didn't know what they were. And if you asked him, they needed to define _them_―their relationship. Whatever _they _had. If they had anything at all, really. He knows he's a pretty guy, but just 'cause he's pretty, don't mean he's dumb. Anyway, he meets with Quinn and they walk to History together. But Sam really needed to talk to Quinn today. Like, bad. That meant he needed energy. He knew he should've brought another protein shake...

Who knows what other crap can go wrong when he talks to her.

Like, Puck had almost killed him this weekend. And Quinn obviously had some residual feelings or whatever for the angry freak. It was just too much drama. And if being with Quinn created more drama, Finn had made it quite clear that Sam would no longer be welcome in glee club. Which, by the way, would totally blow―_totally_―but would totally diffuse the tension. If Sam left, that is.

He'd been so worked up all of Sunday (not even paying attention while he worked on his graphic novel) that he'd signed onto AIM, hoping to chat with Kurt about everything. But, no dice. Kurt didn't sign on that night. And dang, Sam really needed a friend. Someone to help him sort through all of this. 'Cause Sam literally had no clue what to do.

Should he dump Quinn? _But I like her_.

Should he quit glee? _But I'm when I perform. And I'm good at it._

Should he hire bodyguards to protect him against Puckerman? _That's just stupid, man. Stupid._

So Sam definitely needed some solid advice.

Ultimately, he figured he'd talk to Quinn. Make it obvious to her that he knows. Right? That he's aware of the fact that:

a) Puck can and will kick his ass twenty different ways.

b) Quinn and Puck seem to have fairly strong feelings for one another. Still.

c) Sam's a chicken-shit who'd rather sell his comic collection than hurt someone.

Beause that's what it ultimately came down to: hurting Quinn. He doesn't want to add more hurt. She'd told him that this year was all about her. She called herself selfish and maybe she is. Ah, who's he kidding? Quinn _is _selfish. That's partly why she and Sam started dating. Quinn needed a good old fashioned distraction.

Enter: Sam.

And he got it. He _finally_ got it. Really. Sam finally understood that Puck attacked him on Saturday _because_ of his feelings for Quinn. When the dude told him to take care of her, it clicked. So really, why would Sam sacrifice his safety?

Again?

He finished his salad, chugging the water he had left over from last week―it was probably not the cleanest of water, but Sam was thirsty―and made his way out of the cafeteria, thoughts of Puck still swirling anxiously in his head, making his stomach knot.

And, speak of the devil. Standing right outside of the cafeteria was Puckerman. Looking mighty close to Santana, he might add. Actually, upon closer inspection, it looked like they were ready to kill one another. Yeah. Stay away, Sammy. Stay away.

He nodded politely at them and almost ran down the hall. He didn't need the two scariest glee clubbers on his ass. And Sam's pretty sure that Santana could cause as much―if not more―damage to him, as Puck. And really, he'd rather not know for certain. Some mysteries―like the truth behind the legends of the Loch Ness monster and Sasquatch, for instance―are better left unsolved.

Mentally patting himself on the back for avoiding what he's sure would have been a beat down, he spotted Quinn at her locker. She looked... sad. Crap! Second-thoughts, go away! Quinn turned around, almost like she knew Sam was there, a big smile on her face.

"Hey!" Quinn laughed.

"Oh, hey," Sam answered, rather lamely.

Quirking an eyebrow, Quinn pulled out her books. "Something wrong?"

Sam noticed the way she held her books protectively over her chest. Noticed the way her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. Noticed the way the guilt weighed heavily on his heart. Could he do this? Could he dump this girl who looked like one rebuke could _break_ her?

_You weren't even dating_, a lilting voice reminds him. _Oh. Right._

"Nah, nothin's _wrong_," he smiled. "But I do think we should... talk?"

"Oh?" Quinn looked at the floor, scuffing it with her white sneakers. She hunched her shoulders a little and Sam instinctively put his hand on her shoulder, wanting to comfort her.

"Hey," he waited until she lifted her gaze to his. "We're friends, right?"

She nodded, a shy smile playing on her lips.

"And, well, _friends_, they talk, right?"

"Yes," she was now laughing.

"So you know that as my _friend_, you can tell me anything. Right, _friend_?"

Quinn was no longer smiling and Sam was never more grateful for befriending her. She was smart and was totally picking up on his gigantor hints.

She jutted her chin out, nibbling softly on her lip, her right eyebrow slowly arching.

"You're breaking up with me."

"Quinn," he pulled her in for a hug. "We're not... we're not dating. We never really labeled what we are. I mean, were." He felt her nod against his chest. "I like you. But I... I dunno. I don't think you like me. Not the way you liked Finn." He paused, readying himself. "Not the way you like Puck?"

Quinn looked up, annoyed.

"_None_ of your business."

"I'm just sayin'," he said, smiling to show her he didn't mean to overstep any boundaries in their friendship. "What you went through last year―"

"Please, stop talking." Quinn closed her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose.

"Fine. I'll shut up," Sam chuckled. "But hey," his tone was serious and he waited until she opened her eyes. "As your friend, I expect you to talk to me. I know we won't work out or whatever, but... I'm a good listener," he shrugged.

Quinn smiled, a soft laugh escaping her lips before she wrapped her arms around Sam's neck, hugging him tight.

"Thank you, Sam," she whispered into his collar.

* * *

The last thing Puck wanted to see that _fantastic_ Monday was Sam hugging Quinn. Or was it Quinn hugging Sam?

Okay, it wasn't a full-on makeout session and it wasn't like he walked in on them having sex in her room or under the bleachers. It was an innocent hug.

And Puck had told her to sort herself out, so he really had no business getting his proverbial panties in a knot over Quinn and Sam _hugging_.

Really. He didn't.

Puck knew that.

But fuck if he didn't feel like the hallway walls were closing in on him. He knew he was verging on Jacob Ben Israel territory, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the blonde couple. The way Quinn was nestled against Sam's stupid chest, the bull's eye on his blue t-shirt marking the spot Puck wanted to punch the most.

_Screw this_. He couldn't deal with it any longer, so he forced his legs to walk away.

He managed to get through the afternoon without a hitch.

Of course, Quinn found him, tossing his homework (yes, Puck does homework now. Part of the deal he made with his proby.) into his bag at the end of the day.

He heard the distinct sound of her footfalls. After spending months living with her, Puck learned to recognize the quick, light sounds of Quinn Fabray's feet on the ground. He didn't even look up when her feet stopped right next to his bag; he just kept chucking papers and books, clenching his jaw to keep from exploding on her. Yelling at her to leave him alone, knowing he'd be fighting the urge to hug her the moment the vicious words sprang forth.

"Hi," Quinn greeted. She sounded almost shy. But Puck knew better.

He wasn't playing that game anymore, remember?

Seconds ticked by.

The chatter that once filled the hall had considerably waned and as Puck looked around, hoisting his bag over his shoulder, he realized Quinn and he were the only two left.

"Puck, please don't..." he heard Quinn's quiet voice, but he walked around her, trying to control the hammering pain in his heart.

"Please don't ignore me!"

He willed his legs to move.

She was with Sam.

She'd never ditch him.

She'd never help herself.

Why should he care?

So he kept walking, pushing open the doors that led into the east hallway.

He heard her hurried steps behind him. Heard the way her voice strained as she called after him.

"Puck! _Please_."

He rounded on her, then. Annoyed. Hurt. At the end of his GD rope.

"Please what, Quinn? Can't you take a hint?" Quinn opened and closed her mouth, seemingly trying to form a response. "We talked on Saturday. You know how I feel." He clenched his jaw, glaring at her, trying to show her how much he despised the way he felt. "Just... please, Quinn. Go back to Sam and live your fairytale life. I told you. I'm done."

He gave her one last cold look before he turned around and left the school.

He would get over Quinn. He simply needed time.

And she... she'd finally understand that she couldn't control his heart.

* * *

******AN**: Thanks again for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Glee. I merely used Ryan Murphy's amazing characters to get me out of my writer's block. All typos, errors and overall crappiness belong to me.

* * *

"Don't even _think_ about gaining a pound, Juno!" Sue barked at her head cheerleader from the sidelines. The Cheerios in the top teetered slightly in the wind and Sue would never risk another lawsuit.

She looked up the pyramid once more, scrutinizing every inch, when she noticed a slight tremor course through Quinn's body. She took up her megaphone again, her knuckles white from the vise grip, her fingers like talons. "I can see roly-poly knocker's arms wobble. One more pound on that pyramid and you, Humpty Dumpty will fall!" She cast one more look of disdain at the cheerleaders and pulled the megaphone back to her face.

"Now break formation before I break your adolescent arms! And don't think I won't!"

The Cheerios quickly fell apart, dismantling their pyramid, showing how well-trained they are and proving just how much their cheerleading coach frightens them all.

"Q! My office, now!" Sue called out before she stalked towards the school entrance. She looked behind her and sure enough, Quinn was on her trail, pulling her Cheerios jacket tightly around her upper body, warding off the early November chill.

Sue was worried about the Cheerios' chances at Nationals. Quinn had been quieter than usual, walking behind the pack of cheerleaders, dragging her feet like she's tired, isolating herself from the rest of her teammates. There had only been one other time when Quinn Fabray behaved this way and that was the previous year. Around the time Quinn had realized she was pregnant and didn't want anyone else to know.

Around the time Sue knew—beyond the shadow of a doubt—that she could no longer trust her head cheerleader.

Sue's not a worrier. She's a doer. If she senses danger, her instincts are to kill. Fearing that her newly reappointed head cheerleader is preggo, again? Yeah, not something Sue needs to deal with now. Not something she _wants _to deal with. But she's seen Quinn canoodling with that Evans boy and Sue needs to be _certain _her star cheerleader hasn't gotten herself knocked up. Again.

There's also all that nonsense with the Puckerman kid. Who'da thunk a good, Christian girl would fall for the Jewish bad boy? Certainly not Sue Sylvester. There is no God in Sue's mind—Sue idolizes no one but herself. And Madonna. All the religion stuff leaves her lightheaded, but she is very familiar with the level of batshit, crazy, insanity in the Fabray household. She was lucky to have Quinn's older sister, Claire, on her Cheerios, too and saw her display the same devotion to the cross that Quinn does.

She sat behind her desk and motioned for Quinn to sit across from her, nodding in thanks when Quinn shut the door behind her.

"You wanted to see me, Coach Sylvester," Quinn sounded unsure and Sue smiled inwardly at that. It gave her the upper hand. Quinn _should feel_ inadequate in Sue's presence. If she says the wrong thing, she's off Cheerios and Sue's promoting Tits Ahoy.

Neither Quinn nor Sue really want that, but she'll do what she has to do if it means guaranteeing Nationals.

She scrutinized the girl in front of her, taking in her downcast eyes and sagging shoulders. Noticing the creases in her cheer outfit and even the lumps in her ponytail. Since when is Quinn Fabray in less-than-perfect shape? And all of the sudden, Sue felt a twinge of remorse for pulling the girl into her office.

Quinn's eyes finally met Sue's, a new hardness in her gaze and Sue smothered the feeling of remorse. That look was a quick reminder that the Quinn she knew last year and the year before is long gone, buried deep within this girl who's somehow managing to fool them all. Except her. No siree, Bob. Nothing gets past Sue Sylvester.

"Know why I called you into my office, Q?" She asked, leaning forward, staring at the girl through narrowed eyes. When Quinn shook her head, Sue slowly nodded. "I called you here because you're my Captain, Quinn. My star Cheerio. You set the example for all the brainless bimbos you call your teammates," she slammed her pointer finger against the desk. "And I can't have you cost me the championship," she poked the desk with her finger after each word, driving the point home.

"Coach Sylvester," Quinn cut in, pleading with her. Her hand gripped the desk's hardwood edge and Sue regarded her with derision. "I've been busy with—"

"Spare me the dramatics," she said, walking around her desk to stand beside Quinn. She crouched low and got in Quinn's personal space. "You're just as bad as those glee kids," she spat. "And here, I thought I could trust you," she finished softly.

"You-you can! I swear!" Quinn sputtered.

"I should demote you! How does washing the Cheerios' soiled spanks sound?" Sue barked. She stood up, again, her nostrils flaring in frustration. "You've changed."

Again, Quinn lowered her gaze.

"I haven't," she whispered. "Not really."

"No, Quinn. You _have_ changed. And it's time you owned up to it." Sue walked over to her trophy case, unwilling to acknowledge the tears on Quinn's face. "I know things are hard for you." She heard a sniffle. "And you, Charo and Tweedle Dumb find it easier to be in glee club than Cheerios," Sue finally turned around. Her gaze fixed on Quinn, again. "How's your daughter?" She nodded once.

Quinn wrung her hands, clenching and unclenching her jaw.

"I don't see how that's any of your business," she replied and Sue smiled to herself, knowing she had finally gotten through to the stubborn girl.

"I don't see how it's not. My head cheerleader spreads her legs like the cast of Jersey Shore and it's my business."

Quinn recoiled, sitting straight in her chair and flaring her nostrils. She shook her head, her blonde ponytail swaying side-to-side with the movement. "You have _no _right to speak me like that," her voice came out low like a growl and Sue knew she had Quinn right where she wanted her. "_No _right!"

"Hey!" Sue raised her voice, feigning offense. "I get to say whatever I want. This is my office. In case you've forgotten, _Q_, you cheer on _my_ squad! You go to _my_ school! _You _do as _I_ say! Now shut up and sit back!"

But Quinn stood up and walked to the door, and just as she was about to turn the knob, Sue grabbed her attention, again.

"That's right. Run away. But you step one foot outside and you're no longer on the squad."

"Then consider this my formal resignation."

She pulled the door open and Sue allowed herself a small smile. Mission accomplished.

* * *

She walked into the empty girls' locker room. The warning bell had gone off already and the stragglers had all rushed off to their first class.

Her steps echoed in the empty space as she made her way to her locker. The relief she felt at being alone was overwhelming. Try as she might, she couldn't get Sue's words out of her head. Her hands shook as she put in her locker combination and she bit down on her lip to keep the tears from spilling.

_She's off the Cheerios._

The realization made her gasp. She had tried so hard to go back to the way things were, reclaim who she once was and now? She felt the walls close in on her, the ground tilt up and she was slowly gasping for air, her breath coming out in shallow spurts.

"Oh god." Her voice sounded loud in the empty room, bouncing off the walls, and she fumbled with the lock for what seems to be the seventh time in a row. "Oh god." Frustrated, she slammed her hands against the cool metal and let her body slide down until she was a weepy mess crumpled on the dirty locker room floor. (Principal Figgins still hasn't hired any custodial staff since his infamous cut-backs in 2009 and most of the school is in less than clean conditions because of it.)

It had been ages since the last time she let herself cry – really, _cry_ – and she felt liberated, the pain in her chest lessened by the gallons of tears she shed. She heard two familiar voices and it dawned on her that two Cheerios had re-entered the locker room. She sniffled once more and quickly dried her wet eyes, picking herself off the floor. She inhaled as much air as she could, holding it in her lungs and feeling her heart rate pick up again. But that small distraction helped her come down from her hysterical high.

"Quinn!" Brittany said when she spotted her, clearly startled to find her in the locker room. Quinn turned her back towards her. "We kinda thought it would be empty in here."

"I'll be out of here soon," Quinn answered with a gritty voice. Damn her tears. _Damn them_! She cleared her throat. "I'm off Cheerios," she said airily, knowing full well that Santana had anticipated those three words more than anything.

And, sure enough, she heard a loud scoff.

"You'll be back in a week, tops."

"No," Quinn responded firmly. "I'm done." She finally turned to face her friends and she couldn't help it; another sob managed to claw its way out of her body.

Both Santana and Brittany made a motion to step forward, but Quinn held up a finger and shook her head. More sobs wracked through her body and, finally, Brittany managed to step closer and guide her to sit on the bench.

"It's okay," Brittany cooed, rubbing gentle circles against Quinn's back.

"I don't know what I'm doing," she said it so soft, she wasn't even sure she had said it at all.

"Look, Quinn, if you talk to Coach Sue, I'm sure she'll let you back on the team. There's no way she won't take you back with open arms. It's not how she rolls."

"No, not that," Quinn shook her head, feeling a surge of anger. "I mean about everything else." Her lip wobbled and she cursed her tears again. "I'm not the kind of girl who cries in empty locker rooms. I'm not the girl who _quits _Cheerios. I'm not…"

"You're not the kind of girl who ignores her friends," Brittany whispered. "But you've been avoiding Santana and me since summer."

Quinn lifted her tear-stained face to look at her two friends and let two tears trickle down her cheeks.

"I don't know who I am."

"You're Quinn," Brittany deadpanned. "The rest doesn't matter right now," she added with a shrug.

"Exactly," Santana said, sending an indulgent smile in Brittany's direction. "We've all messed up. We've all hurt one another. We're all trying to sort ourselves out. But it's not a reason to give up."

"I haven't given up," Quinn argued. At Santana's arched eyebrow, she continued, "Not on the important things, at least."

"Oh yeah?"

She inhaled and pushed herself to her feet.

"For one, I am focusing on me this year. Last year – I…" she let out a breathy laugh. "I screwed up last year and everyone got hurt. You guys, Coach Sylvester, Mr. Schue… Puck." The last name hung in the air and Quinn shook her head in disbelief. It always comes down to Puck. "I hurt… _so_ many people."

She walked over to the sinks and turned on the tap. She yanked out two paper towels and wet them under the faucet, lightly patting them under her eyes to bring down the swelling.

"I don't want that again this year. Maybe if I'd focused on me, I wouldn't have – "

"Okay, I'mma stop you right there, Fabray," Santana said, standing up. "That was your problem last year. You were too damn focused on _you._ Now, I'm not a genius, but I'm not a dummy, either. And I know you're smart. Shit, you're in honours classes!"

Santana went to stand beside her, taking the damp towels from her to lightly dab under Quinn's eyes. Her back was to the row of mirrors and Quinn found herself fascinated with the numerous Santanas reflecting back. She felt like she was having an out of body experience and she couldn't help but focus on the minutiae. It was a nice (temporary) distraction.

"So don't cop out," Santana finshed, breaking through her thoughts. "You were in a mess last year 'cause you were selfish. And there is no shame in admitting it. Hell. We're all fucking selfish. But someone who's learned from their mistakes owns up to them." She turned around to face Quinn's reflection in the mirror, sending a shy smile in Quinn's reflection. "You're not an idiot, Quinn. Don't act like you're as oblivious as Dumbson."

Quinn returned the smile just as Brittany bounced up and hugged both of them.

"I love it when we have girly talks!"

"Yeah," Santana rolled her eyes. "'Cause the three of us are _such _great friends right now."

"We could be," Quinn said, hesitating a tiny bit.

Santana lifted a recently penciled in eyebrow.

"Okay, then level with me. What happened this summer?"

Quinn gave a slight shrug and detangled herself from their three-way hug. She walked back to the lockers and put in her locker combination once more.

"I needed to work on me," she responded, snapping the door open and pulling out her clothes.

"Yeah, but Britts and I didn't see you until the first day of school. And you know how whack that is. We're your _friends_, Quinn. You have to trust us."

"Right, because trusting you hasn't been a mistake in the past."

"And what's that supposed to mean?"

"'Keep your paws off my man,'" Quinn mocked in a sugary sweet voice, her left eyebrow reaching her hairline. She immediately felt tired. "You can't claim dibs on Puck," she added, as she slipped into a yellow dress.

"What, and you can?" Santana laughed.

"No. But you use him."

"And you didn't?"

"It's not the same."

"How?"

"I never could have predicted last year. That's how."

And for a fleeting moment, Quinn saw Santana's mask of hostility come off, just as a look of guilt flashed over her face.

"What?"

"You can't play the victim card," Santana barked, snapping her mask back on. "It's fucking tired."

Quinn stared hard at the girl in front of her, wondering if she had imagined the look of remorse that flitted over her face. She scoffed, shaking her head. This is _Santana_. Remorse isn't in her vocabulary.

"Yeah well, you can't play the angry and _confused_ card. It's fucking tired, too." Quinn picked up her schoolbag and walked out of the locker room. Her dignity intact.

* * *

After she picked up her extra special measuring spoons from her locker—a gift from her younger sister on the first day of school, they're hot pink and bendy and have a smiley face in the middle—Brittany made her way to room 226. She knew she should be happy! She was headed to Home Ec and she knew they were making cupcakes that day, and Brittany _loves _cupcakes (ask anyone!).

But... she hated seeing Quinn upset. She smothered a sigh and smiled when she saw Kurt and Tina walking a few steps ahead.

Great! Maybe she could get their help on this Quinn deal. They are friends with her, too, after all, so they should be able to help her out. Right? Right.

"Tina! Kurt!"

The pair turned around, matching smiles on their faces.

"Hey, Brittany!" they both greeted her when she approached.

"You excited about making cupcakes today," Tina asked, walking in the direction of the Home Ec room, again. In the years they've known each other, every one in glee club knows about Brittany's love for the mini cakes.

"Uh-huh," she responded with a nod. "Listen, guys. I kinda need your help with something."

"What's the matter, Brittany," Kurt asked.

"Well," she said, taking a deep breath. "I'm worried."

"It's not your cats, is it?" Tina gasped. "I know Charity went missing last weekend."

"I thought you found her," Kurt said.

"Nah, Charity's fine. We found her in my neighbour's basement after we heard her meows. Mom wants to press charges 'cause, apparently, Mr. Daniels kidnapped her, but I think Charity just wanted to go on vacation. You know?"

Kurt and Tina smiled in response.

"Yeah."

"Totally." Kurt cleared his throat. "So, why are you worried?"

"Oh, right. Well, I guess I'm worried about Quinn?"

"You're… not sure if you're worried about Quinn?"

"Well, I'm not sure if I should be."

Kurt and Tina shared a look, before Tina asked. "Why do you think you should be worried about her?"

"She was crying in the locker room," Brittany said, folding her arms. When she stopped in front of room 226, both Kurt and Tina each took hold of one of her elbows and led her inside.

"Do you know why," Tina asked as she sat down at their table.

"Life," Brittany sighed.

"What? Do you mean her life?"

"Well, I guess. She quit Cheerios."

Kurt and Tina shared another look before Kurt asked, "Today?"

"Uh-huh. And I think part of it is 'cause of Puck, but she didn't say so."

"Why, Puck?" Kurt laughed nervously.

Brittany shrugged. "I guess she feels weird about everything that happened last year, so she kinda wanted a do-over. But now," Brittany shook her head. "It's like she's sick of Cheerios. She said this year is about her."

"That's not a bad thing," Tina said, putting a gentle hand on Brittany's shoulder. "She was kind of, I dunno," she shrugged. "Lost last year. Maybe a break from Cheerios will be good for her."

"Maybe," Brittany still wasn't so sure. She looked at the measuring spoons, smiling softly when she saw the smiley faces in the middle. "But now Santana and Puck are hanging out again. I don't get it."

Another look passed between Tina and Kurt_._

"Santana and _Puck_?"

Brittany nodded.

"San and me usually meet after fourth period for some lady kisses, but she blew me off yesterday and Monday. It threw off my whole schedule, since she usually walks me to class afterwards. But, I forgot about class, since…"

"We get it, Britt."

"Oh," she smiled. "So what do you think? Should I be worried? My dad calls my mom a Worry Wart and I don't want to get warts from worrying too much." Her face scrunched up in disgust. "That's really gross… What if I get them under my armpits? No one will give me sweet kisses there if that happens!"

Tina and Kurt both stifled a laugh, but managed to smile at their friend.

"It's just an expression, Brittany," Tina said kindly.

"Good."

"Well, what about the Cheerio from Satan's—I mean, Santana's party?" Kurt asked.

"Oh, I forgot about _her_," Tina replied.

"What Cheerio?"

"At Santana's party on Friday, Tina saw Puck and this… _Cheerio_ go into one of the rooms."

"Right, and when Quinn found out, she wasn't too thrilled."

"Do you know which Cheerio it was?"

"She was tall," Tina looked upwards, trying hard to remember. "Blonde hair, thin… she's new, I think."

"Oh! You're probably talking about Tiff-Tiff!" Brittany clapped her hands. "I love her! She's _such_ a sweetheart! But, she kinda whines a lot during practice. Quinn and Santana don't like her, but…"

"That means he _is_ back to his old tricks," Kurt interjected, ignoring Brittany's glare. "Darn."

"Are you sure he's hooking up with Santana again, Brittany?"

Brittany shook her head, laughing. They _so_ didn't know!

"What?"

"Puck _can't _hook up. It's, like, broken or something."

"What's broken?"

"Pucky-Puck. Puck Junior. His other brain. Duh."

"Wait, his pee-pee?"

"It's called a penis, Kurt," Brittany corrected.

"But what about the Cheerio? Tiff-Tiff, or whatever?"

"I dunno." Brittany shrugged. "All I know is San's spending more time with him 'cause he's worried everyone is going to find out that his piping needs to be plumbed."

"Ew…"

"Tina, it's a fact of life."

"But Tina saw him go into that room with that other girl!"

"He's such a _pig_!"

"Aw, don't say that," Brittany giggled. "I think he looks more like a rabbit," she said thoughtfully. "All I know is that last time Santana and Puck hung out, like, everyday, people thought they were dating. I'm worried people will think that. Again."

"So Puck and Satan—_dammit!—_Santana _aren't_ hooking up?"

"Nope. They're just hanging out again. But knowing Puck and Santana, who knows _what _could happen. Hooking up for them is like dancing is for me. It's like a sixth sense for them."

"But Puck did have sex with the Cheerio," Tina asked, knowing better than to correct her spacey friend.

"No. I told you it's broken."

"What's broken?" Kurt waved his hands in the air, unable to keep up with Brittany's train of thought.

"Puck's penis!"

"Shhh! Eepkay it ownday!"

"Sorry, Brit. But, how do we know?"

Brittany sighed.

"It's easy," Brittany said as patiently as she could. Really, Kurt was in the normal classes and Tina was taking mostly IB classes. You'd think they'd understand. "Puck wanted to hook up with Tiffers, but he never got to slide into home 'cause his baby maker went on strike. Duh."

"I call _that_ karma." Kurt shook his his head. "Anyway, I should go to my table. We'll talk later, ladies."

He walked away, mumbling about Brittany's overuse of the word broken, and Tina leaned closer to Brittany, who was busy pressing her measuring spoons together, making them look like they were making out.

"Hey," she said, trying to get the other girl's attention. She cleared her throat, and tried again. "Britt?"

"Hm?"

"You're _sure _that Puck didn't hook up with Tiffany?"

"Oh, totally. San said that she's doing Puck a favour, since she's not getting any from him. She's very sexually frustrated right now."

"Oh."

Mrs. Hagberg came in then, a sour expression on her face, and Brittany tuned her out to keep playing with her spoons. Doing that was a lot more fun than fire safety in the kitchen, anyway. When Mrs. Hagberg turned to face the whiteboard and write the day's recipe, Tina did a double-take when she saw what Brittany was doing.

"Don't worry about Quinn," she whispered. "Okay? I promise this is all going to sort itself out."

"How can you promise that, though? Last year was terrible and this year is kinda sucking. Hard."

"I know, but Quinn's got all of us, right? Twelve people? All ready to help her."

Brittany smiled at her friend.

"Right." She started to play with her spoons again, but she soon turned back to look at Tina. "You know, Artie really misses you."

A blush crept up Tina's cheeks, slowly spreading down her neck.

"But we talk every day," she laughed.

"Yeah, but he _misses _you. I promise."

"I miss him, too. But it's weird." Tina sighed.

"All you gotta do is talk. Talking solves everything. That's what my mom always says."

Tina smiled. "You're right. Maybe you should talk to Quinn, then."

"I think Quinn needs to talk to Puck."

* * *

Something strange was happening in the halls of McKinley. People were dodging out of Quinn Fabray's way, again. Ordinarily, this wouldn't faze her, but she had been out of the Cheerios uniform for two days already and it was starting to unnerve her that the student body still, well, _feared_ her.

Had this been her sophomore year and she was ten pounds heavier, wearing baggy clothes and carrying a basketball-shaped bulge over her middle, the entire world judging her every move, she would have welcomed this scenario. Gladly. But it wasn't sophomore year. And she wasn't pregnant, alone, thrown out and desperate. So, of course she's at a loss as to what she's done to deserve the wide berth she receives when she walks to her next class.

It's… lonely, somehow.

"Well, Satan and Puck _have_ been getting chummy," she stopped mid-step, hearing Mercedes' loud voice over the noise in the hallway.

"No, it's not like that," was Kurt's annoyed response.

"Then what is it? If Satan and Puck aren't getting busy—"

"Mercedes, Kurt! Hi," Quinn said, approaching her fellow glee clubbers. "How are you?"

"Oh! Hey, Quinn," they replied, their voices meek and dripping with shame. It didn't escape her that Kurt raised his eyebrows in her direction. Nor was she oblivious to Mercedes' downcast eyes.

"What are you two talking about?" Noticing their blank looks, she pressed on. "Something about Puck and Santana? Right? Come on, guys. Omission is lying."

Both friends had the decency to look ashamed.

"No-nothing," Mercedes said. "Satan and Puck are doing a duet this week. That's all."

"For glee club!"

"Right, and Kurt's been helping them with…"

"The piano playing! As you know, I'm an excellent pianist… I mean, sure, I stopped taking lessons in grade eight, but I _never_ missed a lesson and—"

"Kurt," Quinn raised a critical eyebrow, unable to keep the smile off her face. Watching Kurt squirm was as unusual a sight as Finn raising his hand in class. "Breathe."

Mercedes cleared her throat.

"Uh, how much of our conversation did you hear?"

"Just the part about Puck and Santana being closer than usual. But now you two are holding out on me," she crossed her arms and smirked at her friends. "Spill."

"What's to 'spill'," Kurt asked, using air quotes. "We've only noticed – recently – that Puck and Santana are, in fact, spending more time alone together. Why do you wanna know?"

Kurt knew he had her, if his own raised eyebrow was any indication. Quinn felt her own eyebrow deflate and she shifted her weight, straightening an imaginary wrinkle in her rose cardigan.

"To be honest," she gave a slight shrug. "I want to… that is, I've been _trying_ to get Puck back."

"With you?"

She laughed despite herself.

"Yes, with me. You have no idea how much—"

"You miss him. We know."

"You do?"

"Well, the fact you want back with the Nintendo-obsessed-former-slushie-throwin'-ex-con makes it pretty clear," Mercedes said, flicking Quinn's nose with her pointer finger.

"Don't worry," Kurt added. "Your secret's safe with us."

"I don't know what to do," Quinn admitted, scuffing the ground with her boots. "He won't even talk to me."

"Well, getting out of that uniform was a good start," Mercedes said, placing a tentative hand on Quinn's arm. "It's obvious you don't want to be last year's Quinn Fabray."

"No. Yes. Maybe… I don't know."

"Well maybe you should figure _that_ out before you jump back into whatever it is you and Puck have," Kurt offered.

"I want to be my own person."

"And how are you going to do that, prom queen?" Mercedes smirked.

"Easy. Step one, getting Puck back… at least as a friend."

"And then?"

"I'll figure it out as I go along. I just—" Quinn took a deep breath. "I'm trying this new thing where I own up to my mistakes."

"Well, apologizing to Puck is a start," Mercedes said. "And remember, Princess Peach, sometimes the damsel in distress has to be the hero."

"You dated Puck for a _week_ and now you're spouting his theories," was Quinn's incredulous reply.

"What can I say? Puck has a way of rubbing off on people."

Quinn laughed, a gleeful, airy, infectious sound, tickling both Kurt and Mercedes' insides, and they soon joined in.

"So are you going to talk to him?"

"Yeah, of course. I'm not giving up."

"Good."

"Oh, and Quinn?"

"Yes, Kurt?"

"If you need help – with Puck, that is – don't hesitate to ask. We're all here for you."

"Thanks, Kurt. Oh, and Mercedes?"

"Yes, Quinn?"

"I'm sorry. For this summer. For this fall. For freshman year. I'm just – I'm sorry."

Mercedes opened her arms and pulled her friend in for a hug. When they pulled back, there were honest, open smiles on both their faces.

"Aplogy accepted."

It had taken Quinn seven months to own up to her mistakes, but she was learning. And, hopefully someday soon, she'd finally be caught up with her apologies.

She had a steep learning curve, but she was getting there.

* * *

He was leaning against the row of lockers, absent-mindedly scuffing his chucks against the tiles. Waiting.

He was always waiting.

"Hey man," Finn said, approaching him from the left side.

Puck nodded in his direction, but kept his shoulders hunched. His undivided attention still on scuffing the floor.

"What-what are you doing?"

Out of the corner of his eye, Puck saw Finn adjust the strap of his bag on his shoulder, uneasily shifting his weight.

"Waiting," he shrugged.

"For?"

"Jesus, Hudson! What are you? My ma?"

Puck felt a little guilty when Finn flinched; his words a slap to the face.

"Sorry," Finn mumbled, the colour on his cheeks darkening.

Puck shrugged and finally stopped kicking the floor.

"Whatever, man. Do you need anything," he asked, angling his body towards his quasi-friend.

"Kurt told me."

Puck shrugged. The fuck was Hudson on about?

"What are you talking about?"

"_You know_," Finn mumbled, blushing again.

"No, I don't. Spit it out."

"Your junk is broken, dude," he whispered, pointing his hand at Puck's groin.

_That_ got his attention.

"The fuck you hear that?" Puck hissed, taking a hold of Finn's strap to pull him closer. No way in hell was Puck ready for the rest of the student body to learn about his erectile malfunction. "That's a fucking lie."

"Look, man. All I know is Kurt—"

"Kurt?" Puck angrily shoved Finn, drawing a startled squeal out of his taller friend. "What does he know?"

"Well," Finn took a deep breath, hesitating. "He told me about that Cheerio. Last weekend? Santana's party?"

Puck nodded.

"Is that why you were so quiet on the way home," Finn asked, a smile making its way on to his face.

"Shut up," Puck hissed, pointing a finger in Finn's smug face. "And no. Fucking dumbass. I wasn't quiet because of that."

"Quinn?"

Puck stared at his friend, letting his head drop against the lockers.

Neither boy had made the first move to bury the hatchet after babygate came to light. Since then, they had both tiptoed around one another. Sure, they got together for videogame marathons at Artie's house, or for playing hoops with Mike and the guys, but neither boy made the move to spend time alone together.

It was sad. They went from being one another's best friends, to mere acquaintances.

_Girls_. They ruined everything.

"I knew it," Finn sighed.

"Yeah, and what's it to you?"

"Nothing." Noticing Puck's look of disbelief, Finn raised his hands in defense. "Look, I love Rachel. I'm in love with her." Puck scoffed. "You don't get it, man. I—"

"Nah, I get it. I just think it's rich." He let out a breathy laugh. "What, you can be happy with the girl you love and I…" He reached a hand to scratch his head, staring at the scuff marks he left on the floor.

"Can't what, Puck? Finish a damn sentence 'cause you're afraid what it'll do to your reputation?"

"Fuck you, man. You don't know shit, Hudson. You haven't bothered being my friend in months. What, you think giving me a ride home after _one_ party gives you the right to barge in?" He rapped his knuckles against the metal lockers. "Well come on in, dipshit," he said with an exaggerated bow. "Where were you when I was hauled away to juvie? Or last summer after Shelby took Beth?" He clenched his jaw, silently counting to ten again. "You think you have a say in what I do in what I feel?"

"No! Of course not! Jesus, Puck! You rag on Rachel for being dramatic, but you take the cake."

"Well then what do you care? In case you haven't noticed, Quinn and I aren't together."

"No, I – I know."

"Then?"

Finn sighed, raking his long fingers through his messy hair. Did the guy own a hairbrush?

"Look, I want you to be happy. Believe it or not, you're my brother, man," he shrugged, sheepish. "After Mr. Schue told us you were in juvie, I freaked. We all did. And not just 'cause we need your badboy appeal to give us an edge. No. We need you 'cause, as lame and dorky as it's gonna sound, we're a family."

"Yeah, don't go cryin' on me, wuss," he shoved Finn playfully, earning a happy smile from the other boy.

"You deserve to be happy, dude." Something in Finn's tone of voice made Puck think there was a _but _coming… "But—" _Bingo_. "You gotta know, what you and Quinn do… it affects us all. You get that, don't you?"

Now it was Puck's turn to sigh. He leaned against the lockers, angling his body to face Finn.

"I do."

Finn nodded, happy that Puck seemed to understand.

"But that's not why I've given up on Quinn."

"What? Why then?"

Puck shrugged in reply. "I'm not what she wants."

* * *

**AN: **I had planned for a lot more to happen in this chapter, but I decided it would be too much for one chapter alone (already, this is the longest chapter in this fic). Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed it! I have to say I'm nervous about tackling characters like Sue and Brittany, so if you have time (and you want to), please leave me a review to let me know what you think.

As I said in my last update (which I've deleted), I have the rest of this fic mapped out. I hope to have another update up before the end of the month. *crosses fingers* But I just know I'll come back to this chapter and edit the crap out of it. I hate finding typos after I publish fics. It causes a never-ending facepalm...

Thanks again for reading, alerting, reviewing and I hope you all had a wonderful weekend!


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** I don't own _Glee_ or the characters. If I did, the characters would be happy all the time and I'm pretty sure that the show would tank.

**AN: **Finally. Chapter six. My deepest apologies for not posting this sooner. I had it finished weeks ago, but I held on to it for fear I was making Quick too OOC. Regardless, I want to thank you guys for reading and for alerting, reviewing and adding this to your favourites. This fic means a lot to me and I'm happy people are interested in reading my stuff.

* * *

"Puck," Quinn said, rushing forward when she saw him clamber down the stairs.

She'd been waiting for him at the bottom of the stairwell in the east wing of school for the past ten minutes, hoping to catch him on his way to his truck. She figured that the sooner she befriended him, the sooner she could put her plan in motion.

"I-I need to talk to you," she faltered somewhat when she saw who he was walking down with.

Santana withdrew her arm from Puck's and smirked at Quinn.

"I'll be in the truck," she said before walking away.

"A-are you two," she started.

"What's up?"

"Um. I needed to talk to you."

"You said that already. What about?"

It was a bit unnerving, she thought, how little emotion or sympathy was reflected at her through Puck's eyes.

There were times during her pregnancy when Puck was literally her only friend. Looking at him now, you'd never imagine that he'd welcomed her into his household, threatening to run away with her if his mother turned her out and warning his younger sister to give Quinn her space. She never would have dreamed that all that would come tumbling down, just like the rest of her life.

Endless shambles all at her feet.

Taking a deep breath, she attempted a smile.

"You made it pretty clear last weekend that you wanted nothing to do with me. I heard you. Loud and clear."

She stopped, wanting to gauge his reaction, but too scared of what she would find in his eyes. She kept her eyes fixed on the ground, trying to keep her hands from shaking.

"That's not exactly what I said. You know that."

"Yes, well, what I _want _isn't something you can give to me right now. Right?"

Puck remained silent, balling his hands into fists. Where was Quinn going with this?

"Look," she finally met his gaze, startling him with the intensity of her stare. "I know it's hard for you. It's been hard for me, too."

"Wow," Puck breathed. "You're admitting that life ain't easy?"

Quinn glared at him, hating his self-satisfied smirk. She crossed her arms and gave him forced a smile.

"Yes. I am."

"Are you saying you _want _my friendship?" Puck raised his eyebrows, genuinely intrigued. After their talk the previous weekend, Puck was wary. He knew how sly Quinn could be. She would do anything in her power to get her way. No matter the cost.

"_Just_ friendship?" he emphasized after a beat.

He saw her deflate somewhat, knowing she'd never lie outright.

At first.

Lying was never Quinn's first choice. She would find another way to trick you into falling for her trap before she would lie.

So he waited.

"Not… exactly."

"Then what," Puck demanded, putting his hands on his waist. He was getting sick of this bullshit. "Spit it out."

That earned him a glare. He shrugged.

"Santana's waiting."

"There!" Quinn shouted.

"There, what," he exclaimed, feeling equally outraged by her outburst.

"You don't…" she faltered and Puck could see the tears welling in her eyes. "I just don't understand why you would choose to parade around the halls with _Santana _when I _know _you don't care about her."

She closed her eyes, feeling embarrassed and exposed.

This was the boy who'd seen her at her worst. Had elicited (embarrassingly) wanton moans and purrs from her during their lovemaking. Had seen her push a 7-pound child out of her body. Had had to help her out of the toilet bowl one night when he'd carelessly left the seat up.

This was the boy she'd seen at his very best. Had seen him help his younger sister with her homework. Had gone out of his way to care for her—not letting anyone, not his mother, his nana or his friends say a word against her. He had let her in and what she found both amazed and frightened her.

She never dared to think she'd be that intimate with anyone ever again.

Granted, neither of them had ever expected the level of intimacy that they would reach, but, for better or worse, they'd really _seen_ one another. Seen through the glares and the scowls; the muscles and the chastity belt. Saw one another during their best times and, yes, even their worst.

She sniffled a little and hung her head.

He took a deep breath, not knowing what to do.

On the one hand, Quinn had no reason to be upset. He had made it perfectly clear to her that he wasn't buying _anything _she was selling. But on the other hand, the smaller, quieter part of him feared that their conversation the previous weekend had created a shift in their dynamic.

"Quinn, we've been through this…"

"What now?" she snapped. "Are you referring to your needs as a sex shark?"

Puck smiled, despite himself.

"No, I was talking more about the fact you think you and I should be together." He shrugged. "Last I heard we sucked balls at being a couple. I was emotionally constipated and you nagged me for the better part. Oh, and there's also that part about you dumping me while I was at football camp. Via text message. Right. Right."

"You're playing the victim card?" Quinn raised her eyebrow, scoffing. "That's rich."

"I don't think you see how fucked up we are, Quinn," he said through gritted teeth, letting his schoolbag fall to the floor.

"You don't get it, do you?" her bottom lip trembled when she asked the question, tears beading in her eyes. "You're the only thing that still makes sense to me right now."

Her voice was soft. Scared. Hesitant. And Puck found himself wondering whether he heard her at all.

"And that's – God, Quinn. That's _why_ we shouldn't be together. I'm not good for you."

"I see," she mumbled, letting her own schoolbag fall to the floor.

"The last time we talked, we both kinda lost it. I was too upset and I might have said some things—"

"Don't," she cut him off. "Don't apologize. You were right. I took you—_us_, for granted."

She hesitated.

"And?"

"And I regret it. I hurt you. I'm sorry."

Puck smiled, feeling so proud of her, he felt ready to burst. He smiled, genuinely, for the first time in months.

"Apology," his voice was gravelly from the emotion. He cleared his throat. "Apology accepted."

She met his gaze, feeling her heart warm at the care in his eyes. _This _is how he used to look at her. _This _is what she knew. _This _was familiar to her.

She really did miss him.

Wetting her lips, she picked her bag up off the floor and readjusted it on her shoulder.

"So… friends?"

"Yeah," he smirked. "I can't stay mad at you."

She laughed at that. He picked his bag up off the floor and they started their trek towards the exit, both basking in the comfortable silence around them. And that's when Quinn remembered who was waiting for him back in his truck.

"I'll, uh… I'll see you," she said, turning on her heel to leave through the other exit. She didn't need a reminder that her way back into Puck's heart was a dangerous minefield swarming with imminent dangers like Santana and, well, basically every other Cheerio.

"Totally. Hey, um, Quinn?"

"Hmm," she turned around, her lips pressed together.

"How's that whole working on you thing, going?"

She rolled her eyes, but managed a small smile.

"I quit Cheerios."

Puck smiled again and Quinn's heart skipped a beat.

"I'm proud of you."

This was her chance. This was her _in_.

"But, I'm – I'm thinking of taking up the guitar," she started conversationally.

"Really," she heard the optimism in Puck's voice and instantly felt guilty. Her nervous system gripped her vocal chords in a tight grip, not letting her speak louder than a whisper.

"Yes," she breathed. She swallowed once and managed to speak louder. "I've heard taking up a musical instrument helps people who've recently lost someone."

She smiled at him, smothering a sigh. At least that part was true. She had seen a therapist _once _during the summer and she had given her a pamphlet on depression. It talked about the benefits of learning how to play an instrument in treating depression.

Depression. It was such an ugly word. But, surprisingly, it was actually her mother, of all people, who had convinced her to go to therapy. It made Quinn laugh, really. Ever since Daddy left, her mother was more assured. It was a welcome change from the woman she knew, but Quinn couldn't bring herself to trust her fully. After all, she had been the first to discourage Quinn from spending too much time with Puck.

She shook her head and he smiled softly at her, nodding in understanding.

He'd lost someone, too.

"Do you have a teacher yet?" He asked, staring at Quinn and wondering whether she'd already asked Sam. "'Cause if you don't," he paused "I'd be happy to help," he shrugged.

_Success!_

"Really," Quinn acted surprised. "That… wow, Puck. That would be amazing of you. Thank you. Really. That – that means a lot."

"Of course. Uh, we can meet everyday after school and practice in the choir room."

"That's perfect!"

"Great," he replied, biting his lip. He nodded once before cocking his head towards the exit. "Gotta go, but I'm – I'm happy we're starting over."

He smiled softly at her once more, before pushing the doors open and stepping outside.

"See you around, Quinn."

"Yeah. I'll see you tomorrow. After school," she smiled, thinking she was well on her way to getting back into Noah Puckerman's heart.

Thing was, she had never left it.

* * *

**AN: **Reviews make my week! :)


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